• 



o o x 



MEMOIR 

OF THE 

LIFE AND CHARACTER 

OF 

KEY. LEWIS WARNER GREEN, D.D. 

WITH A. 

SELECTION FROM HIS SERMONS. 
LE ROY J? HALSEY, D.D., 

PROFESSOR IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY OF THK NORTHWEST. 




/ 

7 . ^ ; 
NEW YORK: ' 
CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO. 
1371. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S71, 
By CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., 
n the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



PEEF ACE. 



In publishing the present volume, containing a selection of Dr. 
Green's Discourses, with a Memoir of his Life, the purpose has been 
twofold : first, to place in the hands of his numerous friends and pu- 
pils, some suitable memorial of one whom they greatly loved and ad- 
mired ; and secondly, to preserve for the wider circle of the public,, and 
especially of our young ministry, the record of a life singularly devoted 
to the great work of education, and blessed of God in the varied 
spheres of its influence. He lived in an eventful period of the Ameri- 
can Church, and filled successively many important positions in the 
central and western portions of our country. It has been thought, 
therefore, that some monument of this kind was due to his memory, 
and that hundreds of his friends and pupils, in all parts of the land, 
who had heard his liwing voice, would gladly welcome a volume of 
his strikingly original and elevated discourses. 

Our great and good men, especially at the West, live, labor, die, 
and are too soon forgotten. The writer of the Memoir has felt that it 
would be a service to the ministry, to the church, and to the country, 
to place on record, along with these discourses, some fitting tribute 
to a man of God, who served his generation well, and who had at- 
tained to a purity and elevation of character not often surpassed. 
Amid the feverish excitements in which we live, the retrospect of a 
life so consecrated to God, so lifted above the murky atmosphere of 
earthly pursuits and ambitions, may come like an inspiration from a 
purer world to teach us the value of things unseen and eternal. It was 
a life eminently distinguished as one of thoughtful contemplation, 
and, at the same time, intensely devoted to work, and to all active, 
practical duty. 



iv 



PREFACE. 



The sermons of this volume are now published for the first time. 
They had never been prepared for the press by their author; and they 
are, almost without exception, what his own hand marked them — 
" unfinished sketches." They are selected from a large mass of simi- 
lar manuscripts. Gifted in extemporaneous delivery, and able to 
recall any trains of thought which had been once mentally composed, 
he was accustomed to write only an outline of the intellectual and 
argumentative portions of his discourses ; and then to trust himself 
without writing for all the emotional and exhortatory parts. This 
will account for the fragmentary character of some of the sermons, and 
for their apparent want of pointed application at the close. Though 
it was in the unwritten applications and perorations that he often rose 
to his highest excellence of thrilling and impassioned eloquence, 
still enough remains, in these uncompleted productions, to reveal 
many of the striking characteristics which distinguished him as one 
of the most original, impressive, and powerful preachers of his day. 

The estimate here given of Dr. Green's ability, both as a teacher 
and a preacher, is based upon the testimony of many competent 
judges among his contemporaries. It will doubtless commend itself 
as just, to such readers as may have enjoyed his instructions or heard 
him in the pulpit. The writer has not aimed to eulogize, but to pre- 
sent a true picture of the man and the minister — avoiding the 
extreme of an over-estimate on the one hand, and that of saying too 
little on the other. At all events, it is a satisfaction to know that the 
sermons are before the reader to speak for themselves ; and from them, 
though that powerful living voice can no more be heard, he will be 
able to form his own estimate of what the lamented author preached, 
and how he preached. 



COIN TEXTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Daxyille, 180G— 1824. 

Birth. — Parentage. — Early Education. — Maternal Influence. — Orphanage. — 
Judge John Green. — Schools and Teachers. — Studies at Dr. Lewis Mar- 
shall's. — Classical Attainments. — Conversion and Profession of Religion. 
— Dangerous Illness. — Recovery. — Deep Religious Impressions. — Tran- 
sylvania University. — Centre College. — Graduation. — Fondness for Philo- 
sophical Investigations Page 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Danville axd Princeton, 1824 — 1832. 

Choice of a Profession. — Deep Experiences. — Conflicting Plans and Purposes. 
— Becomes a Student of Law. — Then of Medicine. — Settles on a Farm. — 
Impediment of Speech. — His Marriage. — Death of his Wife. — A Final 
Decision. — Preparation for the Ministry. — Studies at Yale College. — 
At the Theological Seminary in Princeton. — Recollections of Drs. Board- 
man and Junkin 9 



CHAPTER III. 
Danville, 1S32— 1840. 

Opening Years of his Ministry. — Licensure and Ordination. — Professorship in 
Centre College. — Anecdote. — Punctuality. — Skill in Teaching. — Style of 
Preaching. — Second Marriage. — Voyage to Europe. — Studies and Attain- 
ments Abroad. — Travels and Acquaintance. — Return to Danville — Call to 
Shelbyviile declined. — Professorship in the Theological Seminary at South 
Hanover. — Professorship and Vice-Presidency in Centre College. — Presi- 
dency of Transylvania University declined. — Colleague-Pastor at Danville. 
— Emancipation 1G 



vi 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Allegheny, 1840—1847. 

Election to a Professorship in the Theological Seminary at Allegheny. — Testi- 
monial as to his Ability. — His Colleagues in the Faculty. — Inaugural Ad- 
dress. — G-erman Philosophy. — Growing Reputation. — Literary Addresses. 
— Lectures on Popery. — The Title of Doctor of Divinity. — Standing 
and Influence as a Preacher and Instructor. — Yarious Calls. — Testimoni- 
als from Dr. R. L. Breck. — Prom Drs. Wilson and Allison. — Prom Dr. 
McGill. — From Dr. David Elliott.— Seven Tears' Work Page 27 

CHAPTER V. 
Baltimore, 1847—1848. 

Resignation of Professorship at Allegheny. — Removal to Baltimore. — Prefer- 
ence of the Pastoral Work. — Labors in the Second Presbyterian Church. 
— Congenial and Useful Employment. — Failure of Health. — Dissolution 
of Pastoral Relation. — Xoble Testimonial of his Church. — Poetical 

Tribute 38 

CHAPTER VI. 

Prince Edward, 1848 — 1856. 

Election to the Presidency of Hampden Sidney College. — Intercourse with the 
Professors. — Portraiture by Dr. Foote. — Restored Health. — Extended La- 
bors. — Scholarships. — Successful Administration. — Influence on the Stu- 
dents. — Style of Preaching. — Anecdote. — Method of Discipline. — Account 
of it by Dr. Dabney. — Testimonial of Dr. Wilson. — Yarious Calls 43 



CHAPTER VII. 
Lexington and Danyille, 1856 — 1863. 

Positions Declined. — Predilections for the West. — Strong Call from Kentucky. 
— Resignation of his Presidency at Hampden Sidney. — Presidency of 
Transylvania University. — Scheme for a Normal School. — Inauguration. — 
Auspicious Beginning. — Disappointments. — Resignation. — Called to the 
Presidency of Centre College. — Inaugural Address. — Joint Pastorate in 
Danville. — Successful Administration. — Trials and Conflicts. — Testi- 
monia 1 51 



CONTENTS. 



vii 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Danville, ISO 3. 



Last Sickness and Death. — Multiplied Labors. — The Church and College. — 
Cause of his Illness. — Incessant Work. — The Closing Scene. — His Last 
Sermons. — Increased Spirituality. — Intense Sympathies. — Letters on the 
War. — Ministry of Love and Consolation. — His Funeral. — Burial. — Reso- 
lutions of his Church and of the Faculty Page 59 



CHAPTER IX. 



Review of his Public Services. — Estimate of his Preaching. — Prominent Traits 
of Character. — His Fervor. — High Sense of Honor. — Conscientiousness. — 
His Beneficence. — His Learning and Eloquence. — His Excellence as an 
Instructor. — Influence as a College President. — Testimony of Dr. Dab- 
ney. — His Strong Points. — His Elevated Tastes and Studies. — His Love of 
Books. — His Religious Devotion. — Personal Appearance. — His Polished 
Manners. — Easy Address. — Tact in Conversation. — Ministries of Love 
and Mercy 70 



CHAPTER X. 

Dr. Green in his Family. — Members of his Home-Circle. — The Husband and 
Father. — Intensity of his Affections. — Picture of Domestic Happiness. — 
Description by Dr. Foote. — Mrs. Green. — Poetry. — Education of his Daugh- 
ters. — Religious Character of his Correspondence. — Beautiful Letters ..SI 



CHAPTER XI. 



His "Writings. — Unpublished Sermons. — Inaugural Discourses. — Literary and. 
Educational Addresses. — Lectures at the L/ni versify of Tirginia. — Ad- 
verse Criticism. — Method of Preparation for the Pulpit. — Estimate of his 
Preaching by Dr. Brank. — Estimate by Rev. "W. G. Craig. — Closing 
Tribute from a Lady 91 



SERMONS. 



PAGE 



I. The Resurrection of Christ 103 

The Lord is risen, indeed.— Lcke, xxiv. 34. 

II. The Six axd Folly of Atheism 119 

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.— Ps. liii. 1. 

III. What was Finished in the Death of Christ 137 

He said, It is finished ; and bowed his head, and gave up the ghost. — 
Joxix, xix. 30. 

IT". The Angels Interested in Man's Saltation 14-9 

Which things the angels desire to look into. — 1 Pet., i. 12. 

V. Paul's Zeal for Israel, and its Lessons ■ 165 

I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness 



in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in 
my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for 
my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh: who are Israelites; to 
whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the 
giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises: whose are 
the fathers, and of whom, as concerning the flesh. Christ came, who is over 



all. God blessed forever. Amen. — Eomaxs, ix. 1-5. 

VI. The Question and its Answer 176 

Sirs, what must I do to be saved ? — Acts, xvi. 30. 

TIT. The Excellency of the Knowledge of Christ 1S8 

For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and 
him crucified. — 1 Cos., ii. 2. 

TUT. Paul Vindicated from the Charge of Madness 199 



And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a lond voice, Paul, thou 
art beside thyse.f; much learning hath made thee mad. But he said, I 
am not mad. most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of truth and 
soberness. — Acts, xxvi. 24, 25. 



s SERMONS. 

P A OR <j 

TX. Max's Condition as a Prodigal Son 213 

And he would fain havs filled his belly with the husks that the swine did 
eat— Lx'kk, xv. 16. 

X. "Worth of the Soul 226 

Forwhat shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose 
his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? — 
Maek, viii. 36, 3T. 

XL The Love of the World 239 

Love not the world, neither the things of the world. — 1 John, ii. 15. 

XII. The Grouxds on which Men Reject the Gospel 256 j 

And they all with one consent began to make excuse. — Luke, xiv. IS. 

XIIL The Duty, Encouragement, and Responsibility arising 

from the Possession of Talents 271 

Occupy till I come.— Luke, xix. 13. 
XIV. The Faithful Saying 293 

This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus 
came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. — 1 Tim., i. 15. 

XV. The Power and Triumph of the Gospel 302 

I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto 
salvation to every one that believeth. — Eomaxs, i. 16. 

XVI. The Remission of Sins through Paith in Christ 318 | 

To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name, whosoever 
believeth on him, shall receive remission of sins. — Acts, x. 43. 

XVIL The Expansive Benevolence of the Gospel 336 

The field is the world— Matt., xiii. 38. 

XVIII. The Provixce of Faith 347 

Ye believe in God, believe also in me. — Jons, xiv. 1. 

XIX. How Life is to be Improved 365 

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wis- 
dom. — Ps., xc. 12. 

XX. Does God Always Punish Six? 380 

There is one event unto all.— Ecci... ix. 3. There is a vanity which is done 
upon the earth ; that there be just men unto whom it happeneth accord- 
ing to the work of the wicked: asrain, there be wicked men to whom 
it happeneth according to the work of the righteous. — Ecci.., viii. 14. 



SERMONS. 



r.w.r. 

XXI. The Religion of the Bible not Opposed to Reason 380 

Come dow, and let us reason together, saith the Lord. — Isaiah, i. IS. 



XXII. Christ's Gracious Invitation. 



Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you 
rest— Matt., xi. 28. 



XXIII. The Necessity of Regeneration .408 

Jesus answered and said unto him: Yerily, Verily, I 6ay unto thee, Ex- 
cept a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. — John, 
iii. 3. 



XXIV. The Helpless Depravity of Man 417 

Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean ? Not one. — Job, xiv. 4. 



XXV. The Ministry of the Gospel 424 

And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling. 
—1 Cok., ii. 3. 



XXVI. Influence of Evil Spirits 438 

"When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry 
places seeking rest, and finding none he saith, I will return unto my 
house whence I came out. And when he cometh he findeth it 
swept and garnished. Then goeth he and taketh to him seven other 
spirits more wicked than himself: and they enter in and dwell there; 
and the last state of that man is worse than the first.— Lcke, xi. 24-26. 



XXVII. The Final and Universal Triumph of the Gospel 467 

And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlast- 
ing Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to 
every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people. — Rev., xiv. 6. 



OlVTLT. Christ Weeping Over Jerusalem 473 

And when he was come near he beheld the city, and wept over it, say- 
ing. If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day. the things 
which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid from thine 
eyes.— Luke, xix. 41, 42. 



XXIX. Ambassadors for Christ 483 

Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseeeh 
you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. 
—2 Cor., v. 20. 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



OF THTC 

REV. LEWIS WARNER GREEN, D.D. 



CHAPTER I. 

Danville, 1806—1824. 

Birth. — Parentage. — Early Education. — Maternal Influence. — Orphanage. — 
Judge John Green. — Schools and Teachers. — Studies at Dr. Lewis Mar- 
shall's. — Classical Attainments. — Conversion and Profession of Religion. 
— Dangerous Illness. — Recovery — Deep Religious Impressions. — Tran- 
sylvania University. — Centre College. — Graduation. — Fondness for Philo- 
sophical Investigation. 

LEWIS WARNER GREEN, of whose life and labors it is 
proposed to give an outline, introductory to a volume of 
his posthumous discourses, was born on the 28th of January, 
1806, in a midland county of Kentucky, near the town of Dan- 
ville. He was the twelfth and youngest child of Willis Green 
and Sarah Reed, who were married at that place in the year 
1783, while Kentucky was yet an almost unbroken wilderness 
and the few settlers about Danville still dwelt in rude forts. 
This, it is said, was the first Christian marriage ever solemnized 
on Kentucky soil. Both parents were of Scotch-Irish descent. 
They were born and reared in the Shenandoah Valley of Vir- 
ginia, where their ancestors had long resided, closely connected 
I by marriage with some of the most prominent families of the 
i State. 



2 



[PARENTAGE. 



His mother, Sarah Reed, was the daughter of John Reed, a 
man of fine personal appearance and of superior intellectual 
and moral endowments. At an advanced age Mr. Reed removed 
with his family of ten children from his home on the Shenan- 
doah to the vicinity of Danville. He was, in fact, one of the 
early pioneers of the place, and left, at his death, a family highly 
distinguished for intelligence, social position, and moral worth 
— his six daughters being all remarkable for personal beauty, 
and his eldest son, Thomas Reed, rising to political eminence 
as a senator in Congress from the State of Mississippi. 

His father, Willis Green, was the son of Duff Green, and 
grandson of Robert Green, who had been one of the early set- 
lers of the Shenandoah Yalley. Willis Green, when quite a 
young man, catching the spirit of adventure, left his paternal 
home in the Mother State to try his fortunes at the West. 
Having obtained contracts to locate land warrants in Kentucky, 
lie set out with his surveyor's commission and instruments, 
and plunged at once into the pathless forest. Arriving, at 
length, in the region of Danville, he selected a beautiful sweep 
of land adjoining the farm of the old fort, which he cleared and 
named " Waveland," from its gentle undulations. Here, meet- 
ing and marrying Sarah Reed, he settled down for life and 
built the family homestead. Here his twelve children were 
born. And here, also, he died at the age of fifty-one, after a 
well-spent life, during which he bad served in the Legislature 
of the State, and filled other important civil offices. He was a 
man of tried integrity and practical wisdom, whose Christian 
principles and rugged virtues were powerfully felt in the new 
and forming society around him. 

Of this sterling Christian stock, and under these circum- 
stances, so auspicious for the development of a noble charac- 
ter, the subject of this memoir was born, and here he received 
his earliest impressions. He was the child of faith and prayer. 
From his infancy he was devoted by his Christian mother to 
the work of the ministry. Upon this child of promise, this son 
of her declining years, the very Benjamin of her heart, she 
lavished the whole wealth of her strong and loving nature. 



PARENTAGE. 



3 



Gently, prayerfully, and hopefully did she perform the faithful 
mother's part and sow the seeds of instruction and sacred in- 
fluence in the young heart. During the few years she was 
spared to him she lost no opportunity of impressing his open- 
ing mind with a sense of religious things, thus early leading him 
along that path which he was afterward to tread, and prepar- 
ing him for that career he was destined to illumine by a life of 
consecration to God. 

But her instructions were of short duration. When but five 
years old he was deprived of a father's care ; and at seven this 
loving, faithful mother was also summoned to the skies. It was 
not, however, until her life-work of lasting impressions had been 
successfully accomplished on his young and plastic heart. Her 
own life was a beautiful illustration of the truth she sought to 
inculcate and its lessons were not soon lost upon the thought- 
ful child. Her death wrung his heart with anguish. But her 
sweetness of temper, her patience under suffering, her unmur- 
muring resignation to the will of God were indelibly engraven 
on his memory. Like seeds in genial soil, they sprang up and 
bore fruits in subsequent years. To her death he was accus- 
tomed, through life, to trace back his first serious impressions 
on religion. The saintly influence of her character lingered in 
his memory as that of some tender and sympathizing guardian 
angel. To that influence, and to the seeds sown by her faithful 
hand, during the first seven years of his existence, he never 
failed to attribute, under God, whatever fruit of good or of 
usefulness his subsequent years may have borne. 

Seldom has a mother's influence over a son, though brief in 
its opportunity,- been more signally crowmed with blessings 
after she was gone. It is another added to the many examples of 
that living power which flows from a faithful mother's influence, 
and shows how God answers prayer and rewards faithful toil 
long after the heart has ceased to pray and the hands to labor. 
In the toils and conflicts of life, amid the darkest hours of 
doubt and temptation, he loved to think of her as some blessed 
visitor from heaven, who had been permitted to smile upon 
; him for a few brief years, as if to allure to that better world 



4 



EARLY EDUCATION. 



and lead the way. From every struggle with the tempter, and 
from every scene of discouragement and trial, he arose with a 
stronger confidence in his mother's God and a warmer love for 
that faith which he had first learned at a mother's knee. 

His early orphanage, depriving him of both parents, threw 
him into the family of his oldest brother, Judge John Green, 
who became his guardian. He was a gentleman of high character 
adorned by many noble virtues ; and he felt the kindly interest 
of a father in the education of the orphan brother now committed 
to his care. Though in later years Judge Green became a 
devoted Christian — two of his own sons afterward entering the 
ministry — his views at that time were somewhat tinctured with 
the prevailing skepticism of the period. About the opening of 
this century a phase of unbelief, originally imported from 
France and indorsed by Mr. Jeflerson and other prominent 
statesmen, had taken strong hold upon many of the educated 
minds of our country, particularly in Virginia and Kentucky. 
Religion found few advocates among the more elevated classes. 
Still, there were some shining examples of evangelical piety. 
Conspicuous among these w T as the wife of Judge Green. She 
was a lady of rare accomplishments, both of mind and manners, 
and of the most lovely Christian character. In her own house- 
hold and in the social circles around her she threw the whole 
weight of her influence on the side of evangelical religion, and 
used all the means within her power to check the prevailing 
worldliness and ungodliness of the times. Dr. David Nelson, 
who, in subsequent years, became pastor of the church of 
Danville, remarked of her, that she had probably done more 
than any other person in Kentucky to stem the current of in- 
fidelity and irreligion and to mould the society at Danville into 
that evangelical character for which it became distinguished. 

Into this home of refinement and culture, presided over and 
adorned by so much that was attractive in piety and womanly 
influences, the orphaned boy was now brought; and here he 
spent the greater part of his youth. While there was much to 
develop and stimulate his opening mental faculties in the as- 
sociations and companionships of such a family, there was not 



SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS. 



5 



wanting that gentle guiding hand of Christian love, which 
might take up the work where his mother's hand had left it, 
and carry forward the religious training which had been so well 
begun. In this noble Christian lady he found a friend and his 
second religious teacher. To her example and influence he was 
indebted for many of the elements and impressions that entered 
into the formation of his character and at last prepared him for 
the great work of life. If she had done no more, this alone 
would have been an object worth living for— that from her 
home circle, and through her humble yet potential influence, 
had been given to the church three ministers to preach the Gos- 
pel of God. 

As a child his manners were singularly shy among older 
people. His serious, thoughtful turn of mind would have very 
much isolated him from his young and more boisterous com- 
panions, but for another characteristic equally strong — his fond- 
ness for out-door sports and the exuberant joy which he felt when 
partaking of them with his boyish associates. An enthusiastic 
love for books, amounting almost to a passion, developed itself 
very early. At an age much younger than is common with 
boys, he acquired a knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages, 
read Virgil and Homer in the original with delight, and became 
as familiar with their scenes and heroes as with the things of 
every-day life. He had the advantage of a thorough drilling 
in these tongues under the instructions of Mr. Duncan F- 
Robertson and Mr. Joshua Fry, two of the most famous teach- 
ers and scholars in that part of the country. No boy of his 
years, probably, ever studied the Greek and Roman classics 
with a keener relish or a higher ardor. He lived in the world 
created by their genius, caught the inspiration of their great 
thoughts and the glow of their sublime imagery, fought over 
their battles, mingled in their sports, sailed over seas and 
stormed cities with their heroes, kindled with the eloquence 
of their orators and sages, and felt his whole soul dilated, re- 
fined, and ennobled by the high and loving communion. 

When thirteen years of age, with his brother Willis, a boy 
of fine promise, two years older than himself, he entered a clas- 



6 



CLASSICAL ATTAINMENTS. 



sical school at Buck Pond, in Woodford County, Kentucky, 
taught at that time by Mr. W. R. Thompson, at the residence 
of Dr. Lewis Marshall, in whose family the boys boarded, and 
afterward by Dr. Marshall himself. This was regarded as the 
best classical academy then in Kentucky. Here were educated 
many of the men who afterward rose to the highest distinc- 
tion in the State. Among all the young and brilliant minds 
here gathered from different quarters, and brought into daily 
contact for the purpose of instruction under the eye of these 
accomplished linguists, none appeared to greater advantage for 
native talent, and all those traits of character which boys 
admire in each other, than the brothers Willis and Lewis 
Green. The latter was pronounced by Dr. Marshall one of 
the finest classical scholars who had ever been under his tuition. 
His natural quickness, his ardent love of study, and his 
thorough training by his former teachers, Fry and Robertson, 
enabled him to sustain himself with ease in classes composed 
of boys much older than himself. In his eager pursuit of clas- 
sical knowledge, and in hearty appreciation of its beauty and 
power, he was the noblest Roman of them all. 

With unabated ardor he pursued these studies about two 
years at Dr. Marshall's, finding in Mrs. Marshall another 
warm-hearted and devoted Christian friend and counsellor, 
who felt a deep interest in his welfare, and cherished for him 
a strong attachment through life. During these years his 
progress in study was rapid and satisfactory. But during this 
time two events occurred, which probably, more than mere 
intellectual growth or attainments, contributed their influence 
to future years in the formation of his character and the shap- 
ing of his destiny. 

The latter part of the first of these years was marked as a 
period of religious awakening in the school and through the 
neighborhood. Quite a number of the pupils and others be- 
came deeply interested in the matter of their salvation, gave 
satisfactory evidence of conversion, and made a public profes- 
sion of their faith in Christ. Among these were both Willis 
and Lewis Green. They were baptized and received into the 



PROFESSION OF RELIGION. 



7 



communion of the Pisgah Church in March, 1820, the one 
being then about fourteen and the other about sixteen years 
old. 

During the second year of their stay at Dr. Marshall's a 
malignant fever made its appearance in the school, and raged 
for a season with great violence. The two brothers fell under 
its power, and soon became dangerously sick. After a brief 
illness, Willis breathed his young spirit into the bosom of the 
Saviour he had loved and trusted. The younger brother, after 
a hard struggle for life, protracted through weeks of suffer- 
ing, at last rallied sufficiently to be carried home to Wave! and. 

Here, however, a relapse ensued, and again there seemed little 
hope of his recovery. But the disease was at length subdued. 
Through a convalescence of months he came up slowly from 
the gates of death. Not in vain for him had been that long 
gaze into the grave, that calm scrutiny of himself in the light 
of eternity. Not in vain was the loss of that gifted brother, 
so endeared to him by nearness of age, similarity of taste, and 
close companionship in the sports, the studies, and the experi- 
ences of childhood. The impressions made upon him were as 
deep and lasting as life. Loud and distinct now sounded that 
call to the Gospel ministry which had rung in his ear ever since 
he had knelt at his mother's knee, and learned from her sainted 
lips to cry, " Our Father." But the preparation was not yet 
complete. Other trials and deeper experiences awaited him. 
A fuller insight into his own unworthiness, clearer views of 
Christ and his all-sufficiency, were needed before entering on 
the vocation to which he aspired with such awed and trem- 
bling expectancy. 

His health being at last restored, he was sent to the 
Transylvania University, in Lexington, Kentucky, then under 
the administration of Dr. Horace Holley. After completing 
the studies of the junior year in this institution, he was trans- 
ferred to Centre College in Danville, then just organized by 
the Presbyterians of Kentucky, and placed under the presi- 
dency of Dr. Jeremiah Chamberlain. The reason for this 
change was that the Presbyterians of the State, becoming dis- 



8 



COLLEGE STUDIES. 



satisfied with the infidel principles of Dr. Holley, had with- 
drawn their support from Transylvania, and determined to 
build up an institution at Danville. Here he spent his senior 
year; and having now completed a full collegiate course, he 
graduated with the first class of Centre College in 1824, at 
the age of eighteen. 

An insatiable thirst for knowledge and love of reading led 
him into paths of both philosophical and classical study not 
often trodden by youthful students. Every thing having a 
connection with the subject of his studies, or in any way 
throwing light upon them, was read voraciously, and incorpo- 
rated with his accumulating stock of knowledge. The study 
of the human mind, its structure and capabilities, possessed 
from boyhood a wonderful charm for him. To the close of 
life he pursued these investigations. With the single excep- 
tion of the contemplation of God's revealed truth, he believed 
there could be no higher and nobler employment of our facul- 
ties than in the study of the human mind. While still a 
college student, the writings of the Greek and Roman sages 
were perused by him with the ardor of cliscipleship. By this 
early and familiar contact with the acute and powerful thinkers 
of other ages, a living energy of thought was infused into his 
mind, which marked all his public discourses. The reader of 
the sermons in this volume cannot fail to see how full his mind, 
was of images of beauty aud sublimity, and how rich in 
treasures of wisdom and philosophy derived from the inex- 
haustible store-house of classical antiquity. 



CHAPTEPw II. 



Daxyille axd Pkixcetox, 1824 — 1832. 

Choice of a Profession. — Deep Experiences. — Conflicting Plans and Purposes. 
— Becomes a Student of Law. — Then of Medicine. — Settles on a Farm. — 
Impediment of Speech. — His Marriage. — Death of his Wife. — A Pinal 
Decision. — Preparation for the Ministry. — Studies at Tale College. — 
At the Theological Seminary in Princeton. — Eecollections of Dr. Board- 
man. — Testimony of Dr. Judkin. 

The time for a decision as to his great life-work was now 
drawing near. With the young man no problem is more im- 
portant, and at times more perplexing. Thus far he had been 
sedulously disciplining his mental powers, and treasuring up, 
against the day of need, that elementary knowledge which 
was to give edge and temper to the weapons of life's warfare. 
But at the same time, the spiritual part of his nature was under- 
going a deeper and far more important discipline. Though con- 
verted at an early age, his faith was subjected to almost every 
form of assault devised by the great adversary of souls for 
their destruction ; but from each dark abyss of doubt and de- 
spair into which he was plunged, it emerged brighter and 
stronger, and with a firmer grasp upon the Rock of Ages. 

The wisdom of God, in -suffering him to pass through this 
fiery ordeal, he recognized in subsequent years, when called to 
administer consolation to others in similar trials. His experi- 
ence in these spiritual conflicts had given him wonderful sym- 
pathy and patience with those who, harassed with doubts and 
tormented with fears, hesitate to receive without question the 
faith of their fathers. With an awed and subdued sense of his 
great deliverance, he acknowledged the divine goodness and 
mercy which preserved him from making shipwreck of the 
faith once delivered to the saints. And thenceforward it be- 
1* 



10 



CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 



came, not only the most powerful, but the most vital and real 
of all realities to him. 

He was now emancipated from the doubts and anxieties that 
had long tortured him, and his freed soul had found perfect 
rest and peace in the assurance that he was a child of God ; 
that Christ was indeed very God, and that the Scriptures con- 
tained the sure and infallible truth of God on all the deep 
questions of man's nature, duty, and destiny. 

But the hour for the choice of a profession brought with it 
temptation and trial in a new form. A purpose which had 
been maturing with each year of his life, from the early period 
at which he began to reflect, and which no degree of gloom or 
despondency could long unsettle, now developed into a burn- 
ing desire to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ. He 
was the centre, however, of far different hopes and expecta- 
tions. His determination to commence at once his preparation 
for the duties of the ministry met with persistent discourage- 
ment. The Bar and the Senate had attracted most of the tal- 
ent of the State. Among worldly people no other position was 
considered a fit theatre for young men with abilities above the 
ordinary range. Some of his nearest relatives, at that time un- 
connected with the church, shared largely in this prejudice 
against the pulpit, and exerted all their influence to dissuade 
him from his purpose. 

On a former occasion, while the brothers were yet little boys 
at school, the remark had been made to some of the ladies of 
the family, " I want you to understand, that you may take 
Lewis and make what you please of him : as for Willis he is 
entirely too smart to be turned into a preacher." When, how- 
ever, in a few brief years, the favorite, and as was then sup- 
posed more gifted boy, thus destined to worldly distinction, 
after giving his testimony to redeeming love, was called away 
to a better world, the purpose was then formed for the remain- 
ing brother, that no reproach of the cross should bar his road 
to fame. Every argument that could be adduced from his ex- 
treme youth and inexperience of the world, and from the illu- 
sory character of things unseen and spiritual, w T as employed to 



LAW AND MEDICINE. 



) 1 



shake the purpose which Lewis had so long cherished, and was 
now ready to put into execution. He too, it was thought, had 
talents too bright to be wasted upon the visionary work of the 
pulpit. 

For a moment he yielded to the persuasive voices which 
whispered to him of fame and fortune and gratified ambition. 
In deference to the counsel of friends he loved, and of his 
young companions in study, he concluded to prepare for the legal 
profession. He entered the office of his brother, Judge Green, 
and applied himself to the study of law with the assiduity 
which characterized all his pursuits. But he soon found that 
his heart was not in the matter. Conscience upbraided him as 
one who was flying from duty. His soul was a constant prey 
to unrest. Unable to prosecute a profession which had become 
thoroughly distasteful to him, in little less than a year he aban- 
doned the law, and commenced the study of medicine with Dr. 
Ephraim McDowell at Danville. If he might not enter the 
race for distinction, here was at least a road to usefulness. But 
from this also he soon turned in utter weariness. He felt that 
it was not his vocation. His heart was not in it. He could 
not pursue it with enthusiasm. His soul had been smitten 
with the early love of a nobler mission, and could not be satis- 
fied with the husks of earthly pursuits, while hungering for 
heavenly sustenance. It was not that other pursuits were un- 
important. It was not that the loftiest Christian virtues might 
not adorn all honorable secular occupations. But his mind had 
long been filled with a great purpose, and he could not rest 
till it was accomplished. The remembrance of his early dedi- 
cation by his mother, God's providential dealings with himself 
and those around him, and his growing convictions of duty 
obtained the mastery. " Woe is me if I preach not the Gos- 
pel S" — this became the burden of his life. 

There was one circumstance in his personal history which 
must be mentioned in connection with his difiiculties as to the 
choice of a profession. For this, probably, as much as any op- 
position or discouragement he encountered from others, con- 
tributed to his indecision at this time. When a little fellow, 



12 



MARRIAGE. 



just learning to talk, he was accustomed to amuse himself by 
mimicking a nurse, who stammered dreadfully, until the per- 
nicious habit became fixed. It does not seem to have cost him 
much uneasiness, until he began seriously to think of a profes- 
sion, when he was overwhelmed with a sense of his misfortune. 
He at once applied himself to the reparation of the evil, with 
a determination which successive and most mortifying failures 
could not conquer nor discourage. And although each fresh 
effort seemed to leave his utterance only the more hopelessly 
defective, the conviction that he could and would overcome it 
was abiding. No remedy was left untried, yet with hardly a 
gleam of improvement. When excited by debate in the rival 
societies at school or college, the hesitation would disappear, 
and his fluency on such occasions is said to have been remark- 
able. But the slightest confusion or embarrassment would 
almost deprive him of the power of speech. His first public 
effort is said to have been painful in the extreme, both to him- 
self and to the friendly audience he attempted to address. He 
rushed from the house in an agony of shame, and few who 
witnessed that painful exhibition were so sanguine as to hope 
that those stammering lips would yet open in streams of fervid 
eloquence. Distressed but not disheartened by this mortify- 
ing failure, he persevered until his efforts at elocution were 
crowned with complete success. But he was ever after ex- 
tremely sensitive on the subject, so much so, that no member 
of his immediate family ever ventured an allusion to it. 

In February, 1827, he was married to Miss Eliza J. Mont- 
gomery, daughter of the Hon. Thomas Montgomery, of Lincoln 
County, Kentucky. She was a young lady of piety and excel- 
lence, and great loveliness, to whom he had been attached for 
several years. She was already in an advanced stage of con- 
sumption, and knew that her days were numbered, but she 
yielded to his desire that the rite might be performed which 
would give him the privilege of ministering to her steadily 
declining health. After his marriage he settled upon a part of 
his paternal farm, and abandoning every object that had hith- 
erto engaged his thoughts, devoted himself to soothing her 



STUDIES FOR THE MINISTRY. 



13 



passage through the dark valley. She lingered a little longer 
than two years, and expired with the words upon her lips : 
" Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless His 
holy name." 

Her death revived, in all their force, convictions of duty 
that had for a time been lulled into repose. Powerless now 
were the arts of the tempter, in vain his cunning devices to 
induce any further delay in the fulfilling of resolutions already 
too long deferred. God had led him, now, for the second time 
through the deep waters of affliction, and he came out chas- 
tened and refined by the sorrow. He recognized the hand of 
God, he heard the distinct call of his Providence, and he was 
ready for the consecration. His deep sense of unworthiness for 
the awful trust of the ministry, the probable estrangement of 
friends, the embarrassment that might arise from his impeded 
utterance, all yielded to the superior claims of duty, and he 
went forward under the guidance of an all- wise Providence, 
with that calm unquestioning faith which ever afterward en- 
abled him to commit every interest, whether of this world or 
the next, without reserve to Him who careth for us. He deter- 
mined now finally and fully to forego all prospects of worldly 
distinction, ease, and affluence, and to give his life to the Gospel 
ministry. 

In accordance with this decision, he entered the Theological 
Seminary at Princeton, New Jersey, in the year 1831, and de- 
voted himself with his accustomed ardor to the prescribed 
studies of the course. Before entering the seminary at Prince- 
ton, however, he spent some time at Yale College, giving his 
attention to the study of the Hebrew language, and such other 
departments as had a special reference to his preparation for 
the ministry. He studied at Princeton through one session and 
part of the second, but did not remain to complete the course, 
in consequence of an urgent call from Kentucky. One of his 
classmates at Princeton, Dr. Henry A. Boardman, referring to 
the period in which they were thus thrown together, speaks of 
him in the following terms : — 

" I recall him as a man of genial temper, and frank, cordial 



14 



TESTIMONIAL OF DR. BOARDMAK 



manners, of recognized and very marked ability, a ready and 
effective speaker, in no sense a cipher, but an earnest true 
Christian man, who could not fail, if spared, to make his influence 
widely and beneficently felt in after years. His rare gifts 
commanded the highest respect of his fellow-students ; and 
those of us who knew him well, cherished him as a friend worth 
having. It was a matter of regret with me that I had no oppor- 
tunities of renewing my intercourse with this admirable man 
after we parted at Princeton. He deserves to be held in remem- 
brance by the church." 

An idea of his character and bearing at this period may be 
gained from the testimony of Dr. David X. Junkin, who was 
also his fellow-student : " In the seminary, Mr. Green assumed 
at once the position of a student, and in his class that of a man 
of mark. He was regular in attendance, and his recitations 
were always thorough, evidencing careful study. In the 
'Oratory' exercises he was distinguished as a thinker and 
writer of superior promise. He grasped old thoughts with a 
fresh and original hold, and bore the reputation of an inde- 
pendent original thinker. The tone of his piety was decided, 
and his conduct always dignified and consistent. If in his 
piety there was less of heat and enthusiasm, there was more 
that was the result of fixed, matured, heartfelt conscience- 
controlling principle. His prayers in the social meetings were 
characterized by much humility : he seemed to prostrate him- 
self before his God. In social life he was genial, dignified, and 
attractive; although at first, and to strangers, there might 
seem in his manner a slight degree of hauteur. This, however, 
was the result of a bearing natively or habitually dignified : 
for he was one of the finest gentlemen, in his social manners, 
with whom I have ever met. There was in the expression of 
his countenance a lofty benignity, and in the pose of his tall, 
erect, and slender form, an unconscious dignity, that at once 
arrested attention." 

" In the social circle," continues Dr. Junkin, " he was pecu- 
liarly interesting. His genial manner, his rich conversational 
powers, his sprightly, yet barbless wit, his stores of informa- 



TESTIMONY OF DR. JUNKIN. 



15 



tion, his original way of putting things, and withal his entire 
freedom from the frailty of monopolizing conversation, made 
him one of the most agreeable companions with whom it has 
ever been my privilege to visit or to travel. I esteemed him 
one of the best preachers of my contemporaries in the seminary. 
There was at the beginning of his sermon a slight indication 
of impediment of speech, but it soon disappeared ; and he pro- 
ceeded, slowly at first, but warming with his subject, until 
often a torrent of eloquence was poured forth. His tall, erect 
form, his long arms and slender fingers, and his fine command- 
ing pose, all combined to make his attitudes and gestures, 
while speaking, impressive and effective. His style, like that 
of most extempore preachers, had a tendency to the diffuse, 
'but never, when I heard him, to such an extent as to impair 
its vigor and eloquence. He was a noble man — a fine specimen 
of the high-toned, dignified, Christian gentleman." 



CHAPTER III. 



Danville, 1832—1840. 

Opening Tears of his Ministry. — Licensure and Ordination. — Professorship in 
Centre College. — Anecdote. — Punctuality. — Skill in Teaching. — Style of 
Preaching. — Second Marriage. — Voyage to Europe. — Studies and Attain- 
ments Abroad. — Travels and Acquaintance. — Return to Danville — Call to 
Shelbyville declined. — Professorship in the Theological Seminary at South 
Hanover. — Professorship and Vice-Presidency in Centre College. — Presi- 
dency of Transylvania University declined. — Colleague Pastor at Danville. 
— Emancipation. 

Ix August, 1831, Mr. Green, while pursuing, his studies at 
the East, was elected Professor of Greek in Centre College. 
This appointment, which, if accepted, would have cut short his 
theological course, he thought it best to decline. But a year 
later, August, 1832, he was elected Professor of Belles Lettres 
and Political Economy in the same institution. This second 
call from his Alma Mater, he accepted. He had not completed 
the full course, as intended, at Princeton ; but the position 
offered him was one which, while opening an important sphere 
of usefulness, would also enable him to pursue his theological 
studies to advantage. 

After a year spent in this double occupation, he was licensed 
to preach the Gospel by the Presbytery of Transylvania, at 
Harmony Church, Garrard County, Kentucky, October 4th, 
1833. He was ordained to the full work of the ministry, by the 
same Presbytery, at the same place, October 6th, 1838. Not 
having accepted any pastoral charge, and having been absent 
in Europe nearly half the time since his licensure, while the 
other part had been devoted to teaching, he was not ordained 
until the latter date, and only a short time before his election 
to a professorship at South Hanover. This portion of his life, 



PROFESSORSHIP IN CENTRE COLLEGE. 



17 



from 1832 to 1840, interesting in its bearing upon his subse- 
quent career, must now be more fully described. 

On leaving the seminary at Princeton, in 1832, the young 
Professor of Belles Lettres and Political Economy entered at 
once upon the duties of his department. It was a position 
well suited to his tastes and studies. lie threw into it the 
whole energy and enthusiasm of youth, and soon became one 
of the most popular and successful instructors ever connected 
with the institution. He possessed, in an eminent degree, that 
scholarly ardor which wins the admiration of young men, and 
that courteous urbanity of manner which attracts them to the 
high-toned gentleman ; and with an unusual facility in impart- 
ing what he knew to others, he made the work of instruction 
as agreeable as it was important. The impressions made upon 
his pupils were as lasting as life. They all became his friends. 
Few teachers, if indeed any, have ever been more admired, and 
more warmly loved. One of his pupils at this period, Dr. W. 
W. Hill, of the Bellewood Academy, now widely known him- 
self as an accomplished teacher, writing after his death, bears 
the following testimony to his excellence, which doubtless ex- 
presses the estimate of many others : u My acquaintance with 
Dr. Green commenced just thirty years ago. I was then a boy 
at college, and he was a teacher. He very soon won my heart. 
I saw, boy as I was, that he was a high-minded, honorable, and 
true-hearted man, whom it was safe to confide in, and about 
whom there was no sham. My views of him never changed; 
I have always said that he was the second-best teacher I ever 
sat under. Dr. Addison Alexander I always ranked first, and 
Dr. L. W. Green second; and you will better appreciate the 
compliment when you remember that such men as Dr. A. Alex- 
ander, Dr. Miller, Drs. John and William Breckinridge, Dr. 
Young, and Dr. Hodge were among my highly honored teach- 
ers." 

An anecdote is related which will serve to illustrate the 
prompt punctuality of the young professor. He insisted on 
absolute punctuality on the part of his pupils, and made it a 
point of honor and duty never to be behind time himself. On 



18 



SKILL IN TEACHING. 



one occasion, having a distance of several miles to go, and hav- 
ing been necessarily detained, he found he had barely time, 
though on horseback, to reach the college before his hour of 
recitation. Before starting he had loosely slipped forty dollars 
into his pocket. On nearing the place, he discovered that in 
his rapid ride the money had dropped out, and he knew that 
it must be lying somewhere on the public road ; but rather than 
go back and be behind time with his class, he determined to 
meet them promptly at the hour, go on with his recitation, and 
look for the money afterward. When he returned it was gone ; 
but he felt that punctuality was worth more than forty dollars, 
and he could better afford to lose the money than to lose his 
prestige of professional promptness. 

Thorough, accurate, and systematic in his own studies? 
rigidly conscientious in the discharge of every duty, and feeling 
that whatever was worth doing at all was worth doing well, 
he was just the man to give to his class-room the precision of 
a military drill, and to make his pupils feel that study meant 
work. He knew how to be gentle, and how to be severe. 
There was every thing to encourage, to stimulate, to inspire 
boys who could be moved by the love of knowledge and ot 
moral excellence. But for the idle, the careless, the vicious, 
he had no place; and when he found that they could neither 
be stimulated by good counsel nor won by love, his policy 
through life was, to send them home to their parents. 

His duties as a college professor did not, however, altogether 
supersede ministerial work; he loved to preach, and felt that 
this was his highest function. He preached almost every 
Sabbath, sometimes in Danville and its vicinity, and sometimes 
in distant parts of the State. His preaching was from the 
first distinguished by many of those characteristics which at a 
later period were very strikingly developed. A fervid eloquence, 
a whole-hearted absorption in his theme, and a sort of electric 
influence over his auditory marked all his pulpit performances. 
He carried an earnestness of spirit into all his efforts, a direct- 
ness of application in all his arguments and appeals, which gave 
to truth a cutting power, and could not fail to arouse the atten-' 



STYLE OF PREACHING. 



19 



tion of even the most lethargic hearers. The young preacher 
seemed to have struck upon a new vein, to have found a new 
path, and to have swung himself loose from much of the dry- 
routine, the dead formality, and the stiff conventional common- 
places of the pulpit. Thoroughly master of his subject in all 
its bearings, kindling with emotion as he advanced, his diction 
teeming with images of sublimity and beauty, he poured out 
things new and old from the treasure-house of his well-furnished 
mind, while every sermon seemed but the spontaneous outburst 
of thought and feeling. The fire thus kindled was quickly 
communicated to his hearers ; the attention was fixed, the 
imagination excited, the conscience aroused, the heart melted 
and subdued, under a style of preaching which at once 
fed the mind with knowledge, and attracted it by the charm 
of a true pathos. It was the fire of passion ; but at the same 
time it was the sober reasoning of the coolest logic. 

From the commencement of his ministry he seems to have 
adopted the extemporaneous delivery, and be adhered to it 
through life. But his matter was always the result of careful 
preparation. It is evident from the dates of his extant manu- 
scripts, that almost all the writing of sermons he performed dur- 
ing life was the product of the first ten years of his ministry, 
though he rarely used notes of any description in preach- 
ing, even during this early period. In subsequent years his 
sermons were almost exclusively the result of a purely medi- 
tative process. His command of language was very perfect ; 
his mind teemed with thought and imagery ; and he had no 
difficulty in recalling in perfect order any train of thought he 
had elaborated in the study. This rare power gave to his ser- 
mons at once the exactness of written composition and the 
graceful freedom of extemporaneous speeches. 

In April, 1834, he was again married, taking as his life's com- 
panion Mrs. Mary Lawrence, daughter of Mr. Thomas Walker 
Fry, of Spring House, Kentucky, — a lady eminently qualified 
by education and natural endowments to sympathize fully in 
all his plans of study and contribute to his usefulness and sue* 
cess in life. Later in the same year, a purpose which had been 



20 



MARRIAGE AND VOYAGE TO EUROPE. 



for some time maturing was also carried into execution. For 
some time past he had been anxious to avail himself of the 
libraries and theological lectures of the great German univer- 
sities. Impelled by his early and unabated thirst for knowl- 
edge, and eager to obtain a wide find thorough cultivation of 
his powers for the work of life, he longed to stand in the pres- 
ence of the great scholars of Europe, to sit for a few years as a 
disciple at their feet, and to drink in the inspiration of theo- 
logical truth at the very fountain-head of genius and learning. 
The young professor and the popular preacher would be all the 
better furnished to train the rising youth of Kentucky and to 
plead the cause of classical education and Gospel truth in the 
West, after he had visited these seats of wisdom and held con- 
verse with the mighty masters there. 

Accordingly, leave of absence for two years from the college 
being granted with that view, he sailed from New York in 
August, accompanied by his wife, and after a voyage of three 
weeks in a sailing vessel, arrived at Liverpool on the 15th of 
September. 

While abroad, he devoted himself with special interest to 
those branches of knowledge which had a direct bearing on the 
chosen work of his life, which would best prepare him to be an 
elfective preacher and an accomplished instructor of the young. 
Religion and education were the two poles on which every 
thing revolved. Biblical and Oriental literature, archaeology, 
theological and historical science, the French and German lan- 
guages, with the wide range of general literature and natural 
science, formed the subjects of his daily reading and of his pro- 
found investigations. He attended the lectures of the leading 
scholars at the German universities and formed a personal ac- 
quaintance with Meander, Tholuck, Gesenius, Hengstenberg, 
Ullman, and others. While in England, he visited, with Mrs. 
Green, the great universities and a number of ancient towns 
and castles, spending about two weeks in London. He then 
went directly to Berlin, where he spent the first winter, attend- 
ing the lectures of Meander and Hengstenberg. On leaving 
this country he had taken letters of introduction from Henry 



RETURN TO AMERICA. 21 

Clay, Dr. Charles Hodge, and other prominent gentlemen well 
known abroad, and going as a professor from an American col- 
lege, and at the same time accompanied by his wife, he found 
easy access to the best circles of Berlin. Their sojourn, 
in a social point of view, even aside from its advantages for 
study, was exceedingly pleasant. They visited on friendly 
terms, or met at social gatherings, many of the most distin- 
guished persons, the Baron De La Motte Fouque, Baron Alex- 
ander Yon Humboldt, Roediger, Schultze, Yon Weltzien, 
Wilke, Professor and Chief Justice Yon Gerlach, the Yon 
Blankenberg family, and others ; from a number of whom, on 
coming away, they received in German or English, tokens of 
regard in brief notes and letters, which have ever since been 
preserved in the family as pleasant mementoes of the visit. 

The summer vacation was spent in travelling through the 
south of Germany and Switzerland ; and, being provided with 
letters from their Berlin friends, they found everywhere an 
open door, with much to see and enjoy. The second winter 
was spent in Halle, where he pursued his studies under Tholuck, 
UHmann, and Gesenius, forming an intimate acquaintance with 
the first. From Halle he went to Bonn, and gave special at- 
tention to the study of Arabic, Syriac, and Chaklaic, under the 
instruction of distinguished Oriental scholars. But, after some 
months, Mrs. Green's health declined and they thought it best 
to return. They came through Belgium, and spent six weeks 
in Paris. 

From the various letters and other memoranda of this pleasant 
sojourn in Germany we take a single paragraph as illustrating 
the affectionate regard in which Professor Green and his wife 
were held by their German friends. It is from the pen of the 
learned and evangelical Dr. Tholuck, with whom he kept up a 
correspondence after coming home, and is in a letter addressed 
to him in December, 1835, on hearing that, instead of going 
back to Halle to resume his studies there, as was his intention, 
he had decided to return to America : — 

" Dearest Friend : How much have I been longing for news from you 
W"e are not accustomed to speak out our feelings here so fully, else you would 



22 



EESUMES HIS PROFESSORSHIP. 



have been convinced that there dwells in my heart a warm and sincere friend- 
ship for you, such as is not felt for many of your countrymen. For this reason 
it was the more painful to me to learn that you would return to us no more. 
With much sympathy do I hear of the new afflictions to which the Lord has 
subjected you, and of the apprehensions you feel concerning your wife. You 
will do me a great pleasure if you will let me hear from Paris or America in 
regard to yourself and your beloved wife. To our friend, Dr. Hodge, bear 
with you across the sea the salutation of my constant and sincerest love, and 
you yourself will be accompanied by my prayers. Tou are an Israelite with- 
out guile, and as such I shall always bear you in my heart. This spiritual 
communion we have, unhappily, much too seldom enjoyed. I remain forever 
yours, united with you in the Lord. " A. Tholuck." 

After about two years spent abroad, during which he had 
made large accessions to his theological and literary stores, ho 
returned and resumed the duties of his professorship at Dan- 
ville. He was now an accomplished linguist, surpassed by few 
of his years in this country, an educator in full sympathy with 
his work, and eager to raise the standard of classical and col- 
legiate education at the West. His quickness and facility in 
the acquisition of learning, his unwearied industry, and his 
enthusiastic ardor in study had all conspired to bring him a 
full return for the time spent abroad. He had seen much, 
thought much, learned much, in the two years, and he returned 
laden with rich fruits. Above all, he returned uncontaminated 
with that subtle and pretentious infidelity and rationalism with 
which he had been in such close contact in Germany. His ob- 
servation there had but served to strengthen the grace of God 
that was in him and to intensify his love for all the old evan- 
gelical doctrines of the cross, 

His professional duties at Danville were agreeable and ac- 
ceptable ; but other fields of usefulness opened around him. In 
the fill of 1837, having spent a Sabbath at Shelbyville, Ken- 
tucky, and preached in the Presbyterian Church of that place, 
he was invited and urgently pressed by the Session to be- 
come the pastor. But, having an important position in the 
college, he thought it best to remain where he was, although a 
pastorate had many attractions for him, and the congregation at 
Shelbyville opened a wide door of usefulness. 



CALL TO HANOVER. 



23 



In 1838 he was elected to the chair of Oriental and Biblical 
Literature in the Theological Seminary, at that time connected 
with the college at South Hanover, Indiana, and afterward 
removed to New Albany. He received this appointment from 
the Synod of Kentucky, which had engaged to endow a pro- 
fessorship in that institution in concert with other Synods, north 
of the Ohio, that had undertaken to found and sustain the 
school. This seemed to be a position, in many respects, con- 
genial with his tastes and studies. He accordingly accepted it, 
not feeling that he ought to decline a call coming thus as the 
voice of his brethren through the Synod. Resigning his profes- 
sorship at Centre College, and leaving his family at Danville, 
he repaired to South Hanover, and entered upon the duties 
of his chair in the autumn of the same year. Dr. James Blythe 
was then President of the College, and Dr. John Matthews his 
colleague in the theological department. He continued at his 
post during the session, hearing two recitations a day in Greek 
and Hebrew and delivering two or three written lectures a 
week, which, with preaching on the Sabbath as opportunity 
offered, gave him, as he expresses it, "as much as he could do 
well, and no more." In a letter to his family, written soon after 
he went to Hanover, he mentions an amusing incident : " On 
last Sabbath I went to preach — knocked down the pulpit and 
fell over with it. Fortunately it was quite low and neither 
received any harm. In about one minute all was right again, 
and I went on as if nothing had happened. I am getting pretty 
well under way ; the students are coming to understand my 
method of teaching, and to value it, I think. The devil has 
made, I am convinced, a special attempt to destroy me since I 
received this appointment, and my feet had well nigh slipped. 
But I hope I am now over the arts of the adversary." The fall 
of the pulpit some interpreted as an evil omen — that he would 
tear down the institution, then not firmly established. But it 
is rather to be taken as an indication of the lively style and 
energetic delivery of the young preacher. 

His connection with this institution was, from the first, 
somewhat of the nature of an experiment. It was doubtful 



24 



RECALLED TO DANYILLE. 



whether the seminary, greatly in need of funds, could be car- 
ried on sucessfully, at least in its present location. He had not 
been long at Hanover before an effort was made by influential 
gentlemen at Lexington, Kentucky, trustees of Transylvania 
University, and others, to induce him to return to Kentucky 
and accept the presidency of that institution, which was then 
vacant. It was thought by these gentlemen, that the placing 
of him at the head of the university would be the means of 
restoring it to the favor of its original friends and founders, 
the Presbyterians, and of thus insuring that success which had 
been wanting since the time of Dr. Holley. But he was a 
loyal alumnus of Centre College, too long identified with its 
welfare, and too thorough-going a Presbyterian withal, to 
think of doing any thing that might injure the rising institution 
at Danville, around which the Presbyterian Church of the 
State had now rallied. After some personal interviews, and 
in answer to repeated letters on the subject, he said, that so 
long as there was any prospect of the success of the seminary 
"at Hanover, he felt it to be his duty to remain in that position ; 
and that he would do nothing which could in any way injure 
the Presbyterian Church in her enterprise at Danville. He, 
accordingly, declined the appointment, and continued through 
the session at Hanover. 

In the spring of 1839, having completed the duties of the 
term at Hanover, he was recalled to Danville, under influences 
which seemed to make it his duty to return. He was elected 
vice-president of Centre College, with the department of 
Belles Lettres and Political Economy under his control,. Dr. 
John C. Young being president. He was also elected Col- 
lengue Pastor, with Dr. Young, in the Presbyterian Church of 
Danville, it being arranged that they should supply the pulpit 
on alternate Sabbaths. Here a wide door of usefulness opened 
before him. It was one of the largest and most influential 
congregations in the State— a congregation that had been 
accustomed to the eloquence of Drs. Gideon Blackburn, David 
Xelson, and other gifted preachers. 

Stimulated to their utmost exertion by all the associations of 



PULPIT MINISTRATIONS. 



25 



the place, past and present, surrounded from Sabbath to Sab- 
bath by large and appreciative audiences who hung with grow- 
ing interest on their lips, filled with high professional ardor, 
as well as with that higher inspiration which comes from a 
view of God's glory and the worth of souls, these compara- 
tively youthful but gifted preachers soon rose to an excellence 
and effectiveness of pulpit ministrations not often surpassed 
in the annals of the Western pulpit. " No man," says one who 
knew him well, "ever entered upon the peculiar work of 
preaching the Gospel with a keener ardor, or with a sublimer 
view of its self-sacrificing joys." His peculiar temperament, 
his well-disciplined mind, his far-reaching sympathies, his 
natural gifts of oratory, added to a form of personal piety as 
remarkable for its tenderness as for its stern sense of duty, 
seemed to mark him out for the successful preacher and the 
laborious sympathizing pastor. And it was with the greatest 
possible relish that, after the weekly duties of the lecture- 
room, he addressed himself to the Sabbath work of preaching 
the Gospel. 

We may form an idea of the character of his pulpit minis- 
trations at this time from the testimony of John A. Jacobs, 
Esq., of Danville, who had known him from boyhood. "Lips, 
which in youth could scarcely utter a single sentence without 
the most painful stammering, poured forth for many years a 
most copious stream, sometimes a torrent, of thought, now 
profound, and now soaring to the utmost bounds of human 
imagination, clothed in language apt, accurate, ornate, and 
sometimes gorgeous in expression. His manners were affable 
and kind in the highest degree, though, like most men of high 
genius, he was susceptible of great excitement, and liable to 
occasional waywardness. It was, however, the effervescence of 
intellectual fervor." Taking a retrospect of his whole minis- 
terial and educational services through life, and associating his 
name with his co-laborers on the same field, Drs. Nelson and 
Young, Mr. Jacobs remarks : " The West, I am sure, and, in 
my judgment, the whole land, has not produced in the genera- 
tion that is now almost past, three greater men. Their names, 
2 



20 



EMANCIPATION. 



memories, and services ought to be transmitted to distant 
posterity." 

Toward the close of this period, in the prospect of leaving 
Kentucky to settle in a free State, Professor Green emancipated 
all the slaves he had inherited or possessed in his own right. 
He had desired to do this some time before, and to send them 
to Liberia through the Colonization Society, but they were un- 
willing to go. He w T as at no time an Abolitionist, in the com- 
monly received sense of the term. He was, on the contrary, 
decidedly opposed to any sudden and violent abolition from 
without. But he was an early and warm friend of the colo- 
nization cause, and he greatly desired to see Kentucky relieved 
from the incubus of slavery, and the condition of the colored 
race bettered by some scheme of gradual emancipation, 
originated and carried forward by the State itself. He had, 
accordingly, from the first, sympathized fully in the views of 
his uncle, Judge Green, Henry Clay, and other leading men of 
the State, who organized the first party and made the first 
movement in Kentucky in favor of emancipation. Nothing 
would have delighted him more than to see his native State 
adopt some practical plan of taking her place among the free 
States. And so strong were his feelings on the subject, that 
unable to send his slaves to Africa, and unwilling to leave 
them in bondage, he" emancipated them all on the soil, to the 
number of twenty-five or thirty. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Allegheny, 1840 — 1847. 

Election to a Professorship in the Theological Seminary at Allegheny. — Testi- 
monial as to his Ability. — His Colleagues in the Faculty. — Inaugural Ad- 
dress. — German Philosophy. — Growing Reputation. — Literary Addresses. 
— Lectures on Popery. — The Title of Doctor of Divinity. — Standing 
and Influence as a Preacher and Instructor. — Various Calls. — Testimoni- 
als from Dr. R. L. Breck. — Prom Drs. Wilson and Allison. — Prom Dr. 
McGilL — From Dr. David Elliott — Seven Years' Work. 

In May, 1840, Mr. Green was unanimously elected by the 
General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, to the Profess- 
orship of Oriental Literature and Biblical Criticism in the 
Western Theological Seminary, at Allegheny, Pennsylvania. 
This was a position, for which, by all his previous studies and 
attainments, he was well fitted, though at the time but little 
over thirty-four years of age. Recognizing it as the call of 
Divine Providence to a wide and inviting field of usefulness, in 
which he might hope to spend his energies with best advan- 
tage to the church and her rising ministry, he accepted the ap- 
pointment, removed with his family to Allegheny, and entered 
upon the duties of his office at the opening of the session in the 
autumn of the same year. 

It will serve to show what reputation the young professor 
had won at Danville and throughout the West, to present here 
the testimonial of one of his contemporaries. It is from a letter 
of the Hon. C. S. Todd, afterward United States Minister to 
Russia, written at Cincinnati, under date, April 21, 1840, ad- 
dressed to Rev. Dr. David Elliot of the Allegheny Seminary, in 
reply to inquiries as to the character and qualifications of Mr. 
Green to supply the place of Dr. Nevin in the chair of Oriental 
Literature in that institution. " I seize the first moment to say 



28 



INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 



to yon, that the reputation of Mr. Green in this respect is emi- 
nently high. He has been professor in Centre College for sev- 
eral years; was during last year one of the theological profess- 
ors at South Hanover, selected by the Synod of Kentucky, and 
was for several years at one of the universities of Germany. 
He is an eloquent divine and a most accomplished scholar. He 
is now adjunct pastor with Dr. Young at Danville, and a pro- 
fessor in the college : but I doubt whether he would be induced 
to change his location." 

His associates in the faculty of the seminary, during the 
most of his time at Allegheny, were Drs. David Elliott and 
Alexander J. McGill. His work here called into exercise all 
the treasures of his cultivated intellect, and enlisted the deep- 
est and holiest feelings of his heart. And for the next seven 
years — till his resignation and retirement in 1847 — he gave 
himself up to its demands with unabated ardor. At his inau- 
guration in 1840, he delivered an address, afterward published, 
which was very favorably received, not only by the commu- 
nity, but by the Synod of Pittsburgh, then in session in that 
city. It was replete with sound practical views on the subject 
of Biblical interpretation, and did much to extend his reputa- 
tion through the church, as a safe interpreter and as a scholarly 
and eloquent writer. 

The following sentences from the graceful opening of that 
address will give the reader some idea of the unaffected mod- 
esty of the man, as well as of his meetness for the important 
work to which the voice of the church had here called him : 
44 Though not altogether unaccustomed to address my fellow- 
men upon subjects even of the deepest and most momentous 
interest, yet the novelty of my position, will, I hope, excuse 
any degree of embarrassment which may be apparent on the 
present occasion. Surrounded by faces entirely new to me ; 
invited by your kind confidence, while yet personally unknown, 
to occupy an important and responsible situation in your the- 
ological institution ; though yet a stranger, welcomed as a 
brother among you, I should do injustice to my own feelings, 
did I not express my deep sense of the unmerited kindness 



INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 



29 



which has called me hither, of the weighty obligations I am 
about to assume, the solemn responsibilities inseparable from 
the station I am called to occupy, and my own deeply felt and 
candidly acknowledged incompetency for the full and adequate 
performance of all the arduous duties of the station. Nor can 
I deem it inappropriate to the occasion to express before the 
patrons of the institution my views of the nature of that office 
— of the duties it enjoins — of the qualifications, intellectual and 
moral, which it requires. Not as though I had attained, or 
were already perfect, or even expected to attain the full 
measure of those large and various qualifications which I shall 
attempt to describe, but that you may understand what are 
my views of an excellence which it should be the constant 
effort of the Christian theologian to attain, and toward which 
every student of theology should be taught, from the commence- 
ment to the termination of his course, to aspire and to 
struggle." 

In this masterly address he takes a wide survey of the whole 
field of Biblical interpretation, showing the true province of 
reason, the relation of science to religion, the connection of Rev- 
elation with the works of God, the essential qualifications of a 
true expounder of the Divine Word, and the dangers arising 
from the rationalistic and infidel theories of the German theo- 
logians and philosophers, into which he had gained so clear an 
insight while abroad. And he closes with an earnest and pow- 
erful appeal in favor of a new and native American exegesis, 
which, while using the results of German investigation, yet in- 
dependent of German authority, shall be founded on the solid 
basis of a pure devotion, a sound orthodoxy, and a sober Anglo- 
Saxon common sense. The key-note of his argument may per- 
haps be learned from the following suggestive paragraph : — 

"The transfusion of German philosophy and exegesis into the American 
mind would be at once the indication and the cause of disease, in the system 
so transfused, and in the mind which had stooped to be its passive recipient. 
You cannot support the life and health of one man by injecting into his circu- 
lation the blood of another. The foreign ingredient would be poison and fever 
to his system. You must give him nourishment and let his own digestion sup- 



30 



YAKIOUS CALLS. 



ply vital warmth, sensibility, motion. And as every man, so every nation has 
an individuality of its own, and, to be vigorous and healthy, must be indepen- 
dent, self-nourished, and self-developed. An American exegesis, therefore, 
and, as founded upon and supported by it, an American theology, are as clearly 
ind'.cated and as imperatively demanded, both for ourselves and for the world, 
by the peculiar circumstances of our age and country, as an American general 
literature, American policy, political constitutions, or any other product of 
that novel and extraordinary combination of political, social, intellectual, and 
religious elements, which, variously operating on and blending with each other, 
at once signalize and constitute American character." 

The number of students in the seminary was small and his 
compensation inadequate. But there was a good prospect of 
increase, and the work was one in which he delighted, especi- 
ally as he found constant occasions for the exercise of his 
ministry in the pulpits of the city, and in the neighboring 
churches. His reputation as a preacher and lecturer rapidly 
rose, and went abroad through the country. His services were 
in such demand that scarcely a Sabbath found him unemployed. 
In 1840 he received the honorary title of Doctor of Divinity from 
his Alma Mater, Centre College. In 1842 he was invited to 
deliver an address before the Literary Societies of Jefferson 
College. He delivered similar addresses in subsequent years 
at La Fayette College, Easton, Pennsylvania, and at the Miami 
University in Oxford, Ohio. Through his whole career he 
was called on for many services of this kind, which he rendered 
cheerfully when in his power to do so. In 1844 he received 
an urgent request from the Secretary of the Board of Educa- 
tion, to present the cause of ministerial education at the West, 
in a sermon at the meeting of the General Assembly in Louis- 
ville, Kentucky, that year. In 1845 he received from Dr. 
William S. Potts, of St. Louis, an urgent overture to accept 
the pastoral oversight of a new church, a colony from his own, 
just formed in that city. But this proposition, with others of 
the same kind, he declined, on the ground that his services 
were needed in the seminary, and that he could not leave a 
position to which God, by the voice of his Church, had called 
him. 

Between the occupations of the study and the lecture-room, 



PUBLIC LECTURES. 



31 



regular preaching at home and calls from abroad, Dr. Green 
•was kept incessantly employed during all the year at Alle- 
gheny. This activity he enjoyed. During this period his mind 
became deeply interested in the position and claims of the 
Papal Church, which was attracting much attention at the 
time, and, at the solicitation of prominent gentlemen in Pitts- 
burgh, he prepared and delivered a course of public lectures on 
Popery. The series extended to six in number, and they were 
delivered in weekly succession, partly in Dr. Herron's church 
and partly in Dr. Riddle's. They excited an interest which 
drew increasing crowds to the end of the course, filling the 
houses to their utmost capacity. In these lectures he often 
spoke from an hour and a half to two hours, in his most 
animated style, pouring out the treasured results of his read- 
ing and reflection, and making a profound impression on the 
public mind. 44 These lectures," says Dr. Elliott, 44 delivered 
without notes, added greatly to his reputation as an eloquent 
orator and a skilful controversialist ; and, although they were 
never published, the impression made by them on the public 
mind did not soon pass away." He afterward preached 
before the Synod on the same subject. The newspapers of the 
city gave full reports of the lectures, and lie was urged by his 
friends to write them out and publish them, but no vestige of 
them is found among his writings. 

The following interesting account, by one who was for a 
short time under his instruction as a pupil, will aid us in form- 
ing an estimate of his character and influence while at Alle- 
gheny.* 

" Occasionally I had heard Dr. Green preach in my boyhood, but my per- 
sonal acquaintance with him began in 1845, when I became a student in the 
Western Theological Seminary at Allegheny. His reputation in Kentucky at- 
tracted a number of students from that State. The seminary was in a pros- 
perous condition, and of the young men then gathered there a number have 
since become eminent in the church. Dr. Green was at that time in his early 
prime, and perhaps at the full height of his popularity as a teacher and as a 
preacher. As a professor, his thorough and elegant scholarship, his ent.hu- 

*. Eev. Kobert L. Breck, D.D., ol Richmond, Ky. 



32 



TESTIMONIALS. 



siasm in his work, his high-toned, serious piety, and his affectionate interest 
in the personal welfare of his pupils, commanded the highest respect and 
veneration of the students. He was subject to occasional depressions and 
disturbances of equanimity. Sensitive, impulsive, transparent in his feelings, 
unable to conceal any strong emotion, and scrupulously exact in his notions 
of honor, he sometimes hastily censured with severity what he thought un- 
becoming conduct, and sometimes misjudged acts done in ignorance or 
thoughtlessness, rather than in transgression of exact rules of propriety. 
Issues or ruptures, however, were not frequent, and seldom or never long 
continued, as his own kindliness of nature, and the universal esteem enter- 
tained for him, were too great for them to last. £ 

" In the class-room he was interesting, full, and sometimes eloquent. Being 
under his instruction during a session, afterward a student at Princeton, and 
later, in my more mature years, admitted to renewed intimacy with him, I re- 
tain a high estimate of his rare learning and qualifications as a teacher of 
students for the ministry. As a linguist he had few equals in our country. 
In criticism and exegesis he excelled. And probably no American scholar 
was more thoroughly acquainted with every phase of modern metaphysical 
philosophy, or had, with more acute discrimination, chased down infidelity 
through the different philosophies of Continental Europe. At the time of 
which I write, the doctor did not often preach. "When, however, it was known 
that he was to preach for any of the pastors of Allegheny or Pittsburgh, the 
house was generally crowded to overflowing. His efforts were not always 
equal. But he sometimes rose to the highest and most impressive eloquence, 
which those who ever heard him in one of his happier moods will never 
forget. 

"In private and social life Dr. Green was one of the most charming of men. 
Gentle, affectionate, playful, brilliant, he won the heart while he entertained. 
He lived at this time some three miles below the city, on the bank of the 
Ohio, where he dispensed a wide and elegant hospitality. The elite of both 
the neighboring cities were frequently to be found in his house. In the 
enjoyment of those charming assemblies his pupils were often invited to par-, 
ticipate. They all, no doubt, retain most agreeable and vivid memories of 
them. Dr. Green's character was marked by the simplest and most unmis- 
takable piety. And this gave it its highest charm. No one probably was 
ever in his presence an hour without the conviction of a rare spirituality and 
godliness permeating his thought and life." 

Another of his former pupils at Allegheny, afterward asso- 
ciated with him at Hampden Sidney, and now of Augusta, 
Georgia, Doctor Joseph R. Wilson, gives a brief estimate of 
his excellence as an instructor, a preacher, and a man, in the 
following terms : — 



TESTIMONIALS. 



33 



"It was my good fortune to enjoy his instructions in Hebrew, and in New 
Testament Greek exegesis. Surely there never was a more admirable teacher. 
His scholarship was as profound and as comprehensive as it was minute and 
exact. His whole method of imparting knowledge, his skill in drawing out 
the utmost resources of his pupils, his enthusiasm in dealing with truth, the 
impression he made on his classes of an equal greatness of mind and heart, his 
flowing geniality, mingled with all the elements of needful authority, rendered 
the hours of recitation wonderfully pleasant and profitable. Then, when he 
mounted the pulpit, that mellow voice, elastic enough to accommodate itself to 
all the demands of his singular oratory, that gesticulatory warmth, that glitter 
of ^ illustration, than which nothing could have been more brilliant, that 
patience of reasoning, attended by an appropriate urgency of exhortation — all 
this, and much that cannot be described, no one, who heard and saw, is able 
to forget. Socially, too, he was a great favorite; he shone in conversation, 
and enjoyed good company almost as much as he contributed to its enjoyment. 
His standing at Allegheny, in the esteem of all, was as high as possible. He 
was regarded as a man of genius and a man of God." 

We have an interesting account of Dr. Green, at this time, 
from still another of his former pupils, Dr. James Allison, 
editor of the Presbyterian Banner, who, writing from Pitts- 
burgh, March 21, 1870, says: — 

" He made a strong impression upon all with whom he met, as a scholar, a 
thinker, a preacher, and a genial Christian gentleman. Immediately after he 
had entered upon the duties of his professorship in Allegheny, his power for 
good began to be recognized, not only by the students, but also by the minis- 
ters and churches, and the community generally. His services as a minister 
were eagerly sought and highly appreciated by benevolent societies, by 
literary institutions, and by his brethren on sacramental occasions. There are 
many still living in this city and vicinity who recall, with gratitude, the effect 
produced on them by his powerful sermons. He was not merely a preacher 
for scholars, but also for the common people. "We have listened to him in 
Providence Hall, at Jefferson College, when professors, students, and the 
people who earned their bread by the daily toil of their hands, heard with 
breathless attention, and were alike profited. Wherever he went to preach, 
the people in the city or in the country, among the polished or the plain, in 
great crowds attended. In a wonderful degree he had the faculty of address- 
ing the understanding, erapkwing the reasoning powers and touching the 
heart at the same time. 

"As a professor in the seminary," continues Dr. Allison, "he will never be 
forgotten by his students. At the very first he met them with a warm grasp 
of the hand, looked them in the face with a kindly eye, and made them feel 
2* 



84 



TESTIMONIALS. 



that he was their friend. He was not satisfied with meeting them in the class- 
room, but went to their private rooms, talked with them individually, that he 
might learn their peculiarities and gain their confidence, and pray with them. 
He sought not merely to cultivate their intellects, but also to train their hearts. 
He seemed to consider, and rightly too, that the General Assembly appointed 
the professors in the theological seminaries to be instructors in sacred learn- 
ing, and also, for the time, the pastors of the students. Rarely was a student 
at the seminary more than ten days before receiving a visit from Dr. Green, 
which he never forgot. To the class-room the doctor always came fully pre- 
pared; and he expected the same of the students. With the indolent he had 
but little patience ; but he delighted to encourage the studious. In the Greek 
and Hebrew languages he was a master ; and he employed all the wealth of 
this learning to the elucidation of the Messianic Psalms and Prophecies in the 
Old Testament, and the Epistles to the Romans and Hebrews in the New. He 
held up to our astonished vision truths and beauties we had never seen before. 
He showed us how to enter the mine of Divine truth, explore its wonders and 
mysteries, and gather up its precious treasures. Eor the word of God he had 
the profoundest reverence ; it was sufficient for him to know that a doctrine 
or duty was plainly taught in the Bible ; and then he accepted it with the 
greatest readiness and held it with the firmest tenacity. 

""He fully understood the teachings of the German Rationalists, and had 
sat at the feet of some of the greatest of them ; but he rejected their doc- 
trines with abhorrence. He could not endure them. In interpreting Scrip- 
ture he was an independent thinker, and followed no man or school blindly. 
"While he accepted the doctrinal system in all its extent, as set forth by Dr. 
Charles Hodge in his Commentary on the Romans, he by no means agreed 
with him in the interpretation of every passage, and believed that the doctor 
did not do justice to his own general system of doctrine, in some of his inter- 
pretations, while he at the same time failed to bring out the full meaning of 
the original Greek. While in the "Western Theological Seminary, Dr. Green 
had also charge of the department in which Butler's Analogy was a text-book. 
"We have often thought that his great powers appeared to better advantage 
here than anywhere else. The keen logic and scientific knowledge which he 
brought to the elucidation of that celebrated work were the wonder of all 
who listened. His lecture on the first chapter I have always considered one 
of the most remarkable productions to which it has ever been my privilege to 
listen. Afterward, at the request of the late Rev. E. P. Swift, D.D., the Hon. 
R. C. Grier, late Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, and others, 
he threw this lecture into a popular form, expanded it considerably, and then 
delivered it in a series of sermons, which were heard by vast crowds in the 
First Presbyterian Church of Allegheny. I am afraid that neither the lecture, 
nor the sermons which sprang from it, were ever written. If this should be 
so, the church and the world are the poorer on this account." 



TESTIMONIALS. 



35 



After speaking of his fine historical knowledge, his deep inter- 
est in all the great movements of the times, and of the profound 
impression made by his lectures on Romanism, already referred 
to, Dr. Allison adds : 

"Nowhere was Dr. Green happier than in the social circle, to which he was 
always welcome. He enjoyed the society of his friends, and they delighted in 
his companionship. He could be mirthful or serious ; could listen to others or 
entertain others. He had a warm heart and was a hater of all meanness and 
selfishness. But it was especially when in the company of theological students 
that his fine qualities would shine out. He was ever ready to encourage the 
timid, to gently repress the self-sufficient, to impart in formation to those seeking 
it, and to make them acquainted with books and men. His students rever- 
enced him as a professor and loved him as a friend. "When he left to become a 
pastor in Baltimore, it was felt that the seminary, the church, and the entire 
community had suffered a heavy loss." 

Rev. Dr. Alexander T. McGill, who became associated as a 
professor with him in the seminary in 1842, says: "I was won 
to him at once by his cordial and cultivated manners. Within 
the first hour of my acquaintance with him an impression was 
made of his character which was never changed by subsequent 
intimacy of observation as a friend and colleague. A beaming 
intelligence, transparent candor, and impulsive imagination re- 
vealed the man just as I knew him five years afterward when 
we parted, and just as I remember him now after many years 
and many comparisons in my intercourse with colleagues. The 
perspicacious mind of Dr. Green saw the future of the seminary 
more brightly at that time than any other man connected with 
its interests. If his patience had been equal to his foresight, and 
he could have brooked, without fretting, the delay and vexation 
through which any institution of great and permanent value 
must rise from such a depth of discouragement, he would have 
been signalized as the best builder that seminary has ever had 
among men. His ability, scholarship, and eloquence were un- 
questionable. His aifability and radiating kindness of heart, 
with captivating power of conversation, everywhere attracted 
men and won the attachment of students." 

After referring to some of the petty annoyances and discour- 



38 



TESTIMONIALS. 



agements incident to his position, which weighed heavily on 
his spirits and led him to resign a professorship which might 
have been one of life-long eminence and usefulness to his gener- 
ation, Dr. McGill adds : " He was not appreciated as a preacher 
among the rural churches as he was in the cities, owing mainly 
to the academic taste which had never been governed by a pas- 
toral experience and the indifference of his mind to prevailing 
forms of sermonizing. His vivid imagination, classical allusions, 
and impassioned declamation were lost at times on people ac- 
customed to the homiletic measure and proportion of heads and 
particulars, according to the fashion of the pulpit so long prev- 
alent in that Scotch-Irish region. I have never ceased to regret 
the retirement of Dr. Green from Allegheny, and the consequent 
shifting of his mind to other and miscellaneous labor — no more 
returning to the department he was so peculiarly fitted to fill by 
-his learning and genius alike. A commentary from his pen, 
having the sparkle and emotion he was wont to combine with 
sound judgment in the exegesis of God's word, might have de- 
lighted the church, and occupied the place of much that is 
dull yet salable on both sides of the Atlantic in the prolific 
fields of exposition. His memory is cherished as that of an 
honorable colleague, a noble friend, an able and faithful 
minister of Christ." 

In further illustration of his influence, character, and work 
while at Allegheny, we have the following testimony from the 
pen of the venerable Dr. David Elliott, who was one of his col- 
leagues in the seminary : — 

" In his public performances Dr. Green was very unequal. Sometimes he 
was eminently forcible, brilliant, and impressive, carrying his audience with 
him in rapt attention. At other times he failed of so happy a result. This 
was owing chiefly to his variable bodily temperament, which had much to do 
with his mental operations, elevating or depressing them according to its 
peculiar condition at the time. He was constitutionally impulsive. But ho 
was a man of generous impulses — kind, liberal, a lover of good men and good 
things, ever ready to do his part in whatever tended to advance the cause of 
Christ in the sphere in which he was called to labor. 

"In his intercourse with his brethren in the ministry he was remarkably cor- 
dial and free from that petty jealousy by which some men, whose aspirations 



SEVEN" TEARS' WORK. 



37 



all centre in themselves, are led to disparage the character and standing of 
others. Upon such conduct he looked with perfect loathing. His character 
was formed on the higher and more ennobling principles of the Gospel ; and, 
as a Christian minister, he was deservedly held in reputation. As a professor 
he had a well-stored mind and great readiness in communicating. I have 
good reason to believe that he was a skilful and acceptable instructor. His 
retirement from the seminary, which he had so faithfully served for seven 
years, was greatly regretted by the friends of the institution. But having 
received a call from the Second Presbyterian Church in the city of Baltimore^ 
his convictions of duty led him to accept the pastorate of that church and to 
resign his professorship." 

Testimonials like the foregoing, from his colleague's, pupils, 
and others, might have been greatly multiplied. But these are 
sufficient to illustrate the character of the teacher, the fidelity 
and zeal which marked his labors, and the lasting and blessed, 
impressions made upon the successive bands of young men 
trained under his instruction at Allegheny. The seven years 
spent in this high and sacred work of Biblical interpretation 
may be regarded as among the most important and useful of 
his whole life. The successive classes of young men trained in 
part by his faithful teaching at Allegheny and prepared for 
their great life-work — some of them filling important positions 
in the church, some in distant stations preaching Christ to the 
heathen, and some, their work being ended, already entered 
upon their rest above — if they could join their voices, would, 
doubtless, all attest the singular fidelity, devotion, skill, and earn- 
est zeal of the beloved instructor. As we shall now follow him, 
step by step, through his subsequent career — honorable and use- 
ful as that career was — we can almost sympathize in the regret 
felt by his colleagues that he should have left a position for 
which he was so nobly furnished, and in which his labors had 
been so blessed by God and so useful to the church. 



CHAPTER V. 



Baltimore, 1847 — 1848. 

Resignation of Professorship at Allegheny. — Removal to Baltimore. — Prefer- 
ence of the Pastoral "Work. — Labors in the Second Presbyterian Church. 
— Congenial and Useful Employment. — Failure of Health. — Dissolution of 
Pastoral Relation. — Noble Testimonial of his Church. — Poetical Tribute. 

Dr. Green resigned his professorship in the Theological 
Seminary at Allegheny in October, 1846 ; but he continued to 
give instruction through the session until February, 1847, 
when he removed to Baltimore. He had received and accepted 
a call to the pastoral office in the Second Presbyterian Church 
of that city — a congregation which had enjoyed the ministra- 
tions of a number of very eminent men, among them Dr. John 
Glendy and Drs. John and Robert J. Breckinridge. His 
health had become somewhat impaired at Allegheny by long 
continued application to study ; and it was thought that a 
change of location, as well as a change of employment, might 
be the means of restoration. 

But the prevailing motive with him in making such a change 
was his long cherished and growing desire to devote him- 
self fully to the work of preaching the Gospel in a settled pas- 
toral charge. Of a genial, social disposition, full of benevolence 
and sympathy, he possessed many natural aptitudes for the work 
of a pastor. But, besides this, his soul had ever turned to the 
functions of the working ministry with the greatest possible 
relish ; and he was constantly concluding that both his duty 
and his happiness demanded that he should devote himself to 
the high service of the preaching office. Thus far, through all 
his professional life, he had been a teacher. He felt more and 
more that he ought to be a pastor, that preaching ought to be 
his chief work, and that his life would not be complete until he 



REMOVAL TO BALTIMORE. 



39 



had entered on this service. Had he consulted his own inclina- 
tion he would have done this at the beginning of his ministry. 
His fine pulpit powers, as shown in his first sermons, and his 
popular, engaging manners seemed then to point to the pastorate 
as his proper sphere of labor. The leadings of Providence and 
the calls of duty, however, had urged him forward on a differ- 
ent path, and he threw himself heart and soul into the work of 
education. 

But now, at the age of forty-one, and after a ministry of 
fourteen years, chiefly devoted to the teaching office, he felt 
that the long-looked for opportunity had arrived of giving him- 
self fully to preaching, and he accepted what seemed to be the 
clear callof duty to go to Baltimore. The position was all that 
he could have desired, as furnishing at once a delightful resi- 
dence for his family, and a large and growing field of useful- 
ness, demanding all his energies. 

From the first Dr. Green's preaching — fresh, original, im- 
passioned, and peculiar as it always was — attracted much at- 
tention in the city, and was attended by crowded audiences. 
" He talks Homer and the old Greek and Roman poets and 
philosophers, and every thing else, here in Baltimore," said a 
resident of the city to a visitor who was anxious to hear him, 
"and he mixes it all up with religion and makes people listen to 
him. But he is not a revival preacher. He makes flights into the 
clouds, and you will wonder how he is going to get down. But, 
I reckon, you will be gratified to hear him. He is a gentleman. 
He is just fit for college boys." It is not strange that he should 
know how to preach to college boys and all other youth after 
having taught and preached to them fourteen years. 

But, pleasant as were Dr. Green's surroundings in Baltimore 
and acceptable as were his ministrations to the people of his 
charge, it soon began to appear that his strength was not equal to 
the task he had undertaken. Frequent spells of nervous pros- 
tration and a general running down of his physical system ad- 
monished him that he must seek a change and give up, for a sea- 
son at least, the much-loved work of the pastorate. After a con- 
tinuance of a little more than a year and a half of this delightful 



40 



PASTORAL LABORS. 



relationship, he came to the conclusion to ask for its dissolution 
and so announced his intention. It is seldom that a pastoral 
relation is sundered with more cordial good feeling on both 
sides. The following "beautiful testimonial of respect and affec- 
tion, creditable alike to the people and the pastor, is worthy of 
being placed on permanent record : — 

" At a congregational meeting, held, agreeably to regular notice from the pul- 
pit, in the Second Presbyterian Church of Baltimore, on Wednesday evening, 
4th of October, 1848, Rev. J. C. Backus, D. D., was called to preside as Mod- 
erator, and James George was chosen Clerk. The meeting was opened with 
prayer, by the Moderator, when the following preamble and resolutions, of- 
fered by Elder Wilson, were unanimously adopted ; and, on motion of the 
Hon. W. P. Giles, it was ordered that an attested copy of the same be pre- 
sented to the Rev. Dr. Green in the name of the congregation : — 

" Whereas, In the Providence of God the health of the Rev. Br. L. W. 
Green, the beloved pastor of this congregation, has become so much impaired as, 
m his judgment, to render him unable any longer to discharge the laborious 
duties of his official station, in consequence of which he has given notice to 
the congregation that he would apply to the Presbytery of Baltimore, at its 
next stated meeting, to be held in this city on the 10th of October inst., for a 
dissolution of his pastoral relations to this church and congregation. And, 
whereas, this meeting has been called for the purpose of taking action on the 
subject, either by opposing the dissolution, wliich it has a constitutional right 
to do, or by uniting with Dr. Green in his application to effect it. Therefore, 

"Resolved, As the sense of this meeting, that under all the circumstances of 
the case, it is clearly the duty of this congregation to acquiesce, however pain- 
ful, in what seems to be the will of God in the premises ; because any oppo- 
sition on the part of this congregation would, doubtless, be regarded by the 
Presbytery as selfish and unkind, especially after the repeated declarations 
made by Dr. Green both in public and private that his strength was unequal 
to the task ; it is therefore deemed inexpedient to interpose any obstacles to 
the dissolution. 

" Resolved, At the same time that it is with feelings of the deepest regret that 
this congregation looks forward to its separation from a pastor so able, so be- 
loved, and so faithful; a pastor whose labors among us have been owned 
and blessed of the great Head of the Church ; a pastor by whose conciliatory 
efforts peace and harmony have been happily restored to this congregation, 
which was greatly agitated when he took charge of it by repeated disappoint- 
ments and from having been so long without a stated ministry. 

" Resolved, That this congregation deeply laments the affliction with which its 
beloved pastor has been visited; and while it offers him its kindest sympathy 
and condolence, would, at the same time, respectfully assure him that its 



RESOLUTIONS. 



41 



members, in their humble prayers, will not fail to implore Almighty God that 
he would, in his infinite mercy and goodness, be graciously pleased to restore 
him to wonted health and usefulness, and that he would greatly bless and pros- 
per him in his new field of labor. 

"Resolved, That this congregation heard, with profound satisfaction, the 
declaration made by the Rev. Dr. Green, at the close of the morning service 
of last Sunday, namely, that there was no other cause, either proximate or 
remote, but that of ill-health, which had induced him to ask for a dissolution, 
and that the relations between himself and the members of the congregation 
were of the most amicable nature. This declaration will greatly tend to alle- 
viate the pain of separation. 

" Resolved, That the Rev. Dr. Green be, and he is hereby respectfully re- 
quested to remember this congregation at the throne of grace, and pray that 
brotherly love may continue ; that we may be- kept from strife, division, and 
disunion, and that God would direct us in the choice of an under-shepherd, 
whose labors he will own and bless; a man after his' own heart, to go in and 
out before us, and to break to us the bread of life. 

"Resolved, That Mrs. Green, by her many amiable qualities, has greatly 
endeared herself to the members of this congregation ; that they view the 
necessity of being separated from her society with the deepest regret, and they 
will ever remember her with the kindest and most affectionate feelings of 
respect and regard ; nor will they forget to pray that the choicest of Heaven's 
blessings may continually rest on her and her dear children. 

" Attest, John C. Backus, Moderator. 

Samuel George, Clerk." 

It was not merely in words that the church expressed their 
appreciation of his services. Dr. Green had subscribed a thou- 
sand dollars toward the erection of a new edifice which his 
church were then proposing to build; but, in consideration of 
his failing health and consequent removal from the pastorate, the 
trustees came forward and voluntarily released him from this 
obligation. During his residence in Baltimore he was invited 
on two different occasions to visit New York for the purpose 
of delivering addresses before the anniversary meetings of the 
American Tract Society. He was a warm friend of this society, 
and on both occasions rendered it valuable service by the en- 
larged views which he presented of its usefulness and by his 
earnest vindication of its claims against prevailing misrepre- 
sentation. 

The following beautiful lines, written by a lady of Baltimore, 



42 POETRY. 

and sent to him with the unknown signature of " Miriam," soon 
after he entered upon his work in that city, will serve to illus- 
trate both the spirit of his preaching and the interest with which 
he was heard during this brief pastorate : 

" Ambassador of Christ I how fearlessly 
Thou liftest up the voice to publish forth 
The tidings of salvation to the lost 
And mined sons of men ; how earnestly 
Dost thou entreat the thirsty soul to come 
And drink of that fair river which makes glad 
The city of our God. Oh ! with what love 
Dost thou beseech the weary, sin-sick soul 
To accept the invitation Jesus gave — 
' Come unto me, ye heavy-laden, come, 
And I will give you rest.' "With what a voice 
Of thunder dost thou set the terrors forth 
Of God Almighty's law, and seek to rouse 
The slumbering sinner from his deadly dream 
Of false security. How gently, too, 
Dost thou encourage those who tremblingly, 
As following after God, whose faith is weak, 
Tet by the pure word strengthened, will grow up 
Unto the Christian's perfect stature. One 
There is, less than the least of all who love 
The blessed Saviour, who will long rejoice 
In having heard those glorious Gospel truths 
By thee set forth, and in the faith built up, 
And strengthened by Almighty grace, will run 
With greater zeal along the heavenly road. 
May God be with thee, champion of the cross ! 
And crown thy labors with immortal souls. 
And when thou hast thy hallowed work fulfilled 
On earth, and gone to thy reward above, 
Then mayst thou shine in glory as the sun, 
And as the brightness of the firmament, 
Forever and forever; then shall praise, 
High, holy, pure, be given to Him who sits 
Upon the throne, and to the Lamb who died 
And lives again, glory for evermore." 



CHAPTER VI. 



Prince Edward, 1848-1856. 

Election to the Presidency of Hampden Sidney College. — Intercourse with the 
Professors. — Portraiture by Dr. Foote. — Restored Health. — Extended La- 
bors. — Scholarships. — Successful Administration. — Influence on the Stu- 
dents. — Style of Preaching. — Anecdote. — Method of Discipline. — Account 
of it by Dr. Dabney. — Testimonial of Dr. Wilson. — Various Calls. 

Dr. Green had not been long in Baltimore, before the atten- 
tion of the trustees of Hampden Sidney College, and other 
prominent members of the Synod of Virginia, was turned to 
him, as a suitable person to fill their vacant presidency. The 
college had been for some time much depressed ; but its trus- 
tees and faculty, with commendable zeal, were carrying it for 
ward without a president, until a competent one should be 
found. It was a time-honored institution, and from its origin 
could boast a succession of distinguished names on its roll of 
presidents. Samuel Stanhope, and John Blair Smith, Drury 
Lacy, Archibald Alexander, Moses Hoge, Gushing, and Max- 
well had each in turn adorned its headship, while in its faculty 
had quietly labored some of the best instructors in the State, 
and among its alumni were found many names eminent in the 
annals of the church and the country. 

In the summer of 1848 he was invited to Prince Edward, and 
delivered an address before one of the societies of the seminary 
at the time of the college commencement of that year — making 
a very favorable impression on all who heard him, as to his 
ability and scholarship. Pev. Dr. Foote, who was present and 
heard him for the first time on that occasion, describes his ap- 
pearance, and the effect produced, in the following terms : — 

" His countenance wore the expression of one who had been sick, and 
might be unwell still; a slight flush of anxiety passed over his face, as he 
looked around over that collection of Virginia people, a fair specimen of the 



PRESIDENCY OP HAMPDEN SIDNEY. 



Ancient Dominion, of which he had so often heard, of which he was himself a 
Kentucky ofl'shoot. It was announced that Dr. Green, of Baltimore, would 
address the young men. And who is Dr. Green ? Ah ! it was whispered, he 
is from Kentucky, has held places of honor and trust, and has sought the 
advantage of the climate east of the Alleghanies for his health, wasted under 
intense application. There never was a time that Virginia did not turn with 
interest to a son of her fair daughter Kentucky, and sometimes, like other 
grandparents, show greater partiality than to her home-born children. That 
he was a little nervous, his spirit a little restless, as he met the face of an as- 
sembly, gathered from the elite of the land of his ancestry, only won the atten- 
tion of the auditory. Almost as matter of course that auditory listened with 
profound attention, and at the close of his address gave him a place among 
the men to teach and guide the hearts of the community, especially the young. 
My sympathies were with him from the first. His motions were quick, his 
thoughts flowed rapidly, and yet he had command of a spirit evidently excita- 
ble, fiery, and fearless. There was a philosophic composure thrown over all 
the excitement — perhaps I should have said Christian calmness — but I use the 
word philosophic in its best sense." 

The trustees and other prominent friends of the college, a 
large number of whom were in attendance on the exercises, and 
some of whom had known him before, felt that he was the man 
for the place. He was accordingly soon after elected with cor- 
dial unanimity ; and in the autumn of the same year entered 
upon the duties of the office. His inaugural address, however, 
was not delivered till January 10, 1849. He was now in a 
situation, in many respects, congenial with his tastes and aspi- 
rations. Though in feeble health he was yet in life's meridian ; 
and he had much to stimulate and encourage him. He was on 
the soil of his ancestors, and had been received with a generous, 
warm-hearted welcome, which made him feel from the first that 
he was among friends, not strangers. He had an important work 
to do, in raising again the fortunes of the embarrassed college, 
and he had the hearty co-operation of many earnest workers on 
every side. 

He soon grasped the problem of its success. He knew its 
history, and he saw at once what it needed ; and cheered by 
the prospect, he devoted all his powers of body and mind to 
its welfare. Frankness, cheerfulness, and confidence marked 
his intercourse with the professors ; he sought their co-opera- 



INTERCOURSE WITH THE FACULTY. 



45 



lion in all important matters, and made them feel from the 
beginning, that he was a friend, and would rely upon them for 
counsel and action. Though he had a large experience, and 
strong convictions of his own, on most educational questions, 
yet he came not as an innovator, but as one who sought to 
build on the broad foundations already laid. He let it be dis- 
tinctly understood that he expected entire unity of purpose and 
action between himself and his colleagues ; that their honor 
was his honor; and that in the prosperity and success of the 
college they should all alike find their surest reward. Dr. 
Foote, who was an eye-witness of this delightful harmony, 
which continued during the whole period of the presidency, 
has placed on record the following tribute to the moderation 
and wisdom that marked his official relations : — 

" The honorable purposes expressed at first were carried out to the full by 
Dr. Green on his part, and by the professors on their part. Such a thing as 
private piques and jealousies was never known. He evidently sought and 
seized upon opportunities of honoring his professors; and they were always 
ready to mete out to him in full measure, confidence and co-operation in their 
daily duties, and in those extra ones that were often thrown upon him. He 
never stepped out of his way for any kind of popularity, and never gave ex- 
pression to any feelings but gladness when honor was done another. Alive to 
the approbation of good men, he never thrust himself forward on any occasion. 
After I became sufficiently acquainted with him to know him, I never saw him 
brought forward, but I could see by the flush on his cheek and the quiver upon 
his lip, and the quick glow of his eye, that he felt his position for good or for 
evil, and that his soul was agitated with a desire to do or say the right thing 
in the right way. Even before he began to speak, if I looked upon his face, 
he enlisted my favor. It was evident that his soul was alive to the subject. 
It made no difference whether his flights were even or uneven, fitful or conrin- 
uous, there was that earnestness and modesty combined, that at the close of 
each sentence, made me wish to hear the next. A deeply sensitive man himself 
he could appreciate the feelings of others, and sympathize with speakers who 
were in every thing antipodes to himself, except in honesty and earnestness." 

"When Dr. Green went to Hampden Sidney, he considered 
himself entirely broken down in body by his labors in Balti- 
more, and remarked to a friend, that he had come there to die. 
To his mind, at that time, the most inviting feature in the posi- 
tion was the rest and quiet offered him. But the change. 



46 



SUCCESSFUL ADMINISTRATION. 



country air, congenial occupation, and the approach of middle 
life restored him so that he went away a healthy man. And 
he soon found himself under returning health, almost as busily 
engaged as ever in the ministrations of the pulpit. His preach- 
ing was acceptable and frequently called for. Besides repeated 
calls for his services in different parts of the State, he took his 
turn regularly with the Professors of the Theological Seminary 
in preaching in the chapel of that institution, and was also fre- 
quently invited to preach in the College Church of the village, 
of which Dr. Benjamin H. Rice was then pastor. Wherever 
he went an effectual door was opened to him. He felt that he 
was useful, that his labors were blest of God ; and that he was 
appreciated by congenial brethren who loved and honored him. 
It was one of the happiest periods of his life. He mingled 
freely with many of the leading men of the State,, who gave 
him not only their approval but their cordial co-operation in his 
efforts to restore and elevate one of their oldest colleges. 

And in this important work he had the satisfaction of feeling 
that his efforts were not in vain. His administration continued 
through eight years, during which, under his vigilant and judi- 
cious discipline, every thing moved on with precision, harmony, 
and a good degree of success. The number of students in- 
creased, the funds were augmented, the annual commencements 
became more interesting and more largely attended. He spent 
his vacations in advancing the cause of the college, and at- 
tended the meetings of Presbytery and Synod, obtaining scholar- 
ships, and securing students. His presence everywhere created 
new interest in the college, and his felicitous manner of pre- 
senting the twofold object of his mission, the education of 
youth and the salvation of men, interweaving the two as indis- 
soluble, drew attentive audiences wherever he preached. And 
seldom did he preach without producing a favorable impression 
for his cause. With the co-operation of his faculty and the 
trustees, the course of studies was gradually enlarged, and the 
standard of scholarship raised, so as to meet the wants of the 
public and preserve the relative position of the college among 
the more liberally endowed State institutions. The students 



ENCOURAGEMENT IN HIS WORK. 



47 



themselves caught the enthusiasm, and the ardor of pursuit in 
literature and science diffused a joyousness over the whole col- 
lege precincts. 

Rev. Dr. R. L. Dabney, who became Professor of Theology 
in the seminary at Prince Edward, a few years after Dr. Green 
took charge of the college, speaks of him and his administra- 
tion in the following terms : — 

"He was a cordial and hospitable neighbor; an exceedingly animated and 
agreeable companion, and a firm and enlightened friend of our seminary and 
faculty. Dr. Green's interest in Hampden Sidney was warm and sincere. 
He was a valuable acquisition to the college. "When he came, its literary and 
financial state was bad; the faculty small and nearly starved out; the endow- 
ment almost exhausted ; there were about twenty-seven students, and these in 
an insubordinate condition. With the zealous support of Professor Charles 
Martin (still a member of the faculty), he restored the finances, chiefly by a 
scholarship scheme. Two efforts made by Mr. Martin, whose enterprise and 
energy were invaluable, and other agents, added about eighty thousand dollars 
to the permanent endowment. The faculty were sustained, and the number 
of students ran up to a hundred and thirty-five, or even a hundred and fifty. 
There was also a great increase in their order, diligence, and manliness." 

Besides the important aid of Professor Martin in maturing 
and carrying forward this scholarship scheme of endowment, 
he found also in Rev. Dr. Jesse Armistead an efficient and suc- 
cessful coadjutor. He also gave his own personal attention to 
the work, spending his vacations in raising funds on that plan. 
One secret of his success, through all these efforts, was in the 
fact that he had the hearty co-operation and sympathy of the 
leading men around him — his own faculty and trustees, the 
professors and directors of the seminary, and other members 
of the Synod. In the life of a good man there is no sweeter 
reward and no keener stimulus to exertion than to feel that 
God blesses his labors, and that his brethren appreciate and 
sustain him. This encouragement he had in a high degree du- 
ring his whole administration in Hampden Sidney. 

An incident is related of him at Hampden Sidney, which 
serves to illustrate at once the pungency of his preaching and 
his faithfulness in dealing with the pupils committed to his 
charge. After preaching one morning, he was followed to the 



INFLUENCE ON THE STUDENTS. 



gate by a student, a special favorite, who abruptly accosted 
him thus : — " Good morning, Dr. Green, you are no gentleman, 
sir. I always believed you were a gentleman until this morn- 
ing." " What do you mean, C — ," he replied, calmed in an 
instant by a glance at the face of the agitated youth. " I mean, 
sir, what I say, that you are no gentleman, for no gentleman 
would insult another as you chose to insult me publicly in your 
sermon just now. You know that every word of it was meant 
for me, and you had no right to expose me to the whole con- 
gregation." " My dear C — ," said he, U I was not thinking of 
you at all ; that sermon was written and preached ten years 
ago in Kentucky." This assurance pacified him instantly. 
The doctor carried him into the house, had a long talk with 
him, and had the happiness afterward of seeing him a hope- 
fully converted man. 

He was well fitted, as the Baltimore preacher expressed it, 
to preach to college boys. " I did not wonder," says Dr. 
Foote, speaking of this period, ' ; that his students loved him, 
and loved to hear him preach. He added to and filled out 
the charming variety on College Hill." He chose subjects in- 
teresting to the young, and presented to them the results of 
deep study and protracted thought in a pleasing elocution 
His fancy was lively, his imagination glowing, and his heart 
warm ; and their own hearts and minds were deeply interested 
in his sublime thoughts and forcible conclusions, which seemed 
to them to re-echo and apply the profound logical discussions 
they had heard in the class-room. His own high sense of honor 
and gentlemanly bearing incited the students, in happy emu- 
lation, to the cultivation of the kind, the noble, the elevated, in 
their social intercourse. They were constrained to look upon 
him as a friend. His disapprobation was grief to the offender, 
and he was unhappy till reconciled. He put his students upon 
their sense of honor ; appealed to whatever was manly in their 
nature, and sought to govern them by the principles of right 
and duty revealed in the word of God. 

His discipline was kind, paternal, and skilful. " His method 
of management " says Dr. Dabney, " was to discard petty sur- 



METHOD OP DISCIPLINE. 49 

veillance, to treat the students with cordial confidence while 
they seemed to behave with propriety, and as soon as a chap 
seemed slack in recitations or morals, to send him back to his 
parents summarily. As the institution received no tuition fees 
(scholarships having superseded them) the faculty were not 
restrained from applying the knife promptly, by any sensitive- 
ness about the pocket. When any outrage was committed by 
an unknown student, Dr. Green had a very adroit way of trap- 
ping the real culprit. A conference with his colleagues, with 
an examination of recitation marks, and other indications, 
would lead to a guess as to which students were likely to be 
engaged in pranks. And they rarely guessed wrong. The 
faculty would meet in private conclave and send for the sus- 
pected party. Dr. Green addressed him very respectfully to this 
effect. " You know, Mr. B., that such an outrage has been 
committed. We lament exceedingly to be obliged to say, that 
the circumstances point to you. But such is our confidence in 
your honor, that one word of disclaimer will relieve our minds 
wholly, and we shall hasten with great pleasure to make every 
reparation in our power for an unjust conclusion." Mr. B. 
would probably scratch his head, hesitate, look sheepish, and 
end by saying that he could not speak that word of disclaimer. 
Dr. Green knew that if he lied, the students would expel him. 
" Well, then," he would answer, " Mr. B., the faculty find 
themselves constrained to recommend that you return to the 
parental control," and the next morning's stage would carry 
him away, bag and baggage. 

We have an interesting account of his work at Hampden 
Sidney from the pen of Dr. Joseph R. Wilson, already referred 
to, — who was, at the time, associated with him in the faculty 
of the institution. 

" The good work he accomplished there it would be hard to overrate. He 
found the college not very nourishing, he left it in a high state of prosperity. 
The whole purpose of his soul was given to the interests of that institution. 
He left nothing undone or untried which promised to promote its welfare. In 
this position he showed that his rare qualities as a disciplinarian were excelled 
only by his eminence as an instructor. His knowledge of human nature, and 
his conspicuous goodness of heart, together with the attractions of his personal 
3 



50 



INVITED TO OTHER INSTITUTIONS. 



intercourse, admirably fitted him for dealing with boys. He possessed that dis- 
position, both merciful and just, which enabled him to win their love, while 
administering the severest reproofs. And as the presiding officer of our fac- 
ulty, he was every thing that could be desired ; never overbearing, never self- 
ish, never exacting, never coarse, but always superior ; he won our hearts at 
the same time that he commanded our respect and confidence. His reputation 
soon spread abroad ; and every year it spread more widely. No college presi- 
dent ever enjoyed a purer fame. The fact is undeniable that Dr. Green was 
a really great man, and had his bodily health been as robust as his mental 
energies were strong, he would have become illustrious. As it was, he left 
behind him, in Virginia, a name free from blemish, and for commanding, posi- 
tive excellence, well deserving of being held in grateful remembrance. The 
cause of education in the Old Commonwealth will forever remain his debtor. 
There, too, the cause of religion owes more to his influence than it does to 
most men of his day. Altogether he left a mark which cannot be easily 
obliterated." 

Scarcely had Dr. Green become fully settled at Hampden Sid- 
ney College, with returning health, before efforts began to be 
made to draw him to other fields of labor. The friends of Jef- 
ferson College, at Cannon sburg, Pennsylvania, even before he 
left Baltimore, had made an overture to place him at the head 
of that institution; and they renewed it again during his resi- 
dence in Virginia with still greater zeal. But though his own 
college had opened with less than thirty students, while Jeffer- 
son had two hundred and fifty, and though Dr. A. B. Brown, 
the former president, in repeated letters urged upon him the 
claims of the latter institution ; yet feeling that he was where 
God had placed him, and that he must not despise the day of 
small things, he cheerfully declined all further propositions, and 
determined to abide in his lot and work on. Even as late as 
1855, a very inviting overture was made to him to return to 
Kentucky, and settle among his old friends and kindred, as 
Pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Danville, then 
vacant by the removal of Dr. William M. Scott to Cincinnati. 
But this he also declined. On several other occasions, as will 
be seen in the next chapter, he came to a similar conclusion as 
to his duty at Hampden Sidney; and it was not until he had 
labored on for eight years, and saw his beloved college on the 
high ground of prosperity, that he could feel himself at liberty 
to leave it. 



CHAPTER VII. 



Lexington axd Danville, 1856 — 1863. 

Positions Declined. — Predilections for the "West. — Strong Call from Kentucky. 
— Resignation of his Presidency at Hampden Sidney. — Presidency of 
Transylvania University. — Scheme for a Normal School. — Inauguration. — 
Auspicious Beginning. — Disappointments. — Resignation. — Called to the 
Presidency of Centre College. — Inaugural Address. — Joint Pastorate in 
Danville. — Successful Administration. — Trials and Conflicts. — Testi- 
monial. 

Ox the organization of the Theological Seminary at Dan- 
ville, in 1854, Dr. Green was the first choice of his ministerial 
brethren in Kentucky for the chair of Biblical Literature in that 
institution ; and he would, no doubt, have been unanimously 
elected to it by the General Assembly had not influential mem- 
bers of the Synod of Virginia, the friends of Hampden Sidney 
College, interposed to retain him in the important position lie 
then occupied. He was a Western man, and had never ceased 
to feel the most lively interest in the cause of education- and 
religion at the West. He was a Kentuckian, and his residence 
at the East had in no degree abated his attachment to the 
people of his native State. All his sympathies and predilec- 
tions would have strongly drawn him to a position so impor- 
tant and honorable as a professorship in the new seminary 
located in the bosom of the Kentucky churches. But the call 
of duty was urgent at Hampden Sidney. The friends of that 
institution prevailed, and the appointment was not made. He 
had also, in 1853, promptly declined being re-elected to a pro- 
fessorship in the Allegheny Seminary, on the ground that he 
could not leave Hampden Sidney. Still earlier, in 1850, he had 
been the first choice of the Synod of Kentucky to fill its pro- 



52 



CALLED TO KENTUCKY. 



fessorship in the Theological Seminary at New Albany, which 
position he had been strongly urged to accept, but had declined 
on the same ground. 

In the lapse of years, however, another call came to him 
from Kentucky, which he felt it to be his duty to accept. It 
seemed to open a door of extended usefulness, not often opened 
to any man, and he felt that through it he might, in all prob- 
ability, accomplish the greatest work of his life. In 1856 the 
Transylvania University at Lexington, the oldest collegiate 
institution in the State, was re-organized by an act of the 
Legislature of Kentucky, and in connection with it a normal 
school for the education of teachers was established, as an in- 
dispensable auxiliary to the common school system of the State 
The normal school was itself to be a part of the university, 
forming one of five schools or departments, each having its 
appropriate course of instruction, but all under the direction 
of the faculty and trustees of the university. 

It was a noble scheme. It looked as if Kentucky were about 
to step forward on the high-road of popular education, and to 
illustrate, in a new way, the fact that the schoolmaster is 
abroad in the land. At the head of this important and most 
promising movement the friends of education in Kentucky 
desired to place a man of acknowledged ability and experience. 
The choice fell on Dr. Green, whose learning, practical skill, and 
enthusiasm in the cause of education, all singled him out as the 
man for the place. He was accordingly elected president of 
the institution. His old friends — many of them among the 
most prominent men in the State — urged his acceptance. Some 
visited him in person to press the call. He was induced to 
make a visit to Lexington and see the field for himself. The 
visit was almost an ovation. Everybody urged him to return 
to his native State and take a position which — thus placing 
him at the head of its whole educational system — would put it 
in his power to do incalculable good for all time to come. 
Such a call he could not resist. Returning to Virginia he re- 
signed the presidency of Hampden Sidney before the close of 
the session of 1856. Rev. Dr. R. L. Dabney, of the Theo- 



HIS WORK AT LEXINGTON. 



53 



logical Seminary, agreed to take his place as temporary in- 
structor and graduate the Senior Class of that year. 

He removed to Lexington in August, and on the 18th of 
November was inaugurated President of the Transylvania 
University and the State Normal School. On this occasion, 
in presence of a large concourse, Governor Charles Morehead, 
ex-officio President of the Board of Trustees, addressed him 
in these words of cordial welcome : " On behalf of the 
trustees, whose organ I am, under whose control the institution 
has been placed, and by whom you have been unanimously 
elected president, and may I not add also, on behalf of the 
State of Kentucky, whose most cherished institution is sought 
to be promoted, I welcome you back to your native State, and 
with a heart glowing with honest pride with the anticipation 
of triumphant success, I congratulate you on the enlarged 
sphere of usefulness which is open before you." To this 
kindly greeting Dr. Green responded, in words of deep 
emotion, that for sixteen years he had been an exile from his 
native State, in no dishonorable exile it was true, but still that 
he had always looked upon Kentucky as his home, and it was 
with the most intense delight that he now girded himself for 
the loved work of instructing her youth, and training them for 
usefulness and honor. His whole address, delivered on the 
occasion, was heard with rapt attention. It was one of his 
happiest efforts, abounding in noble, patriotic sentiments, and 
just views of the teacher's province, responsibility, and duties. 

He entered upon his work at Lexington with his accustomed 
zeal and energy. There had been much dissatisfaction and 
discouragement previous to his arrival. But he at once infused 
new life into the institution, and inspired its friends with the 
highest hopes. Through the falLand winter he was kept ex- 
ceedingly busy, maturing his plans for the Normal School, and 
preparing to carry forward the great work, while from Sabbath 
to Sabbath, not only at Lexington, but in other adjacent places, 
he preached to large and delighted congregations. His pulpit 
ministrations at this time were, in ability and eloquence, equal 
to any of his life, and were universally admired. This was 



54 



DISAPPOINTMENTS. 



especially the case with a lecture on the " Immortality of the 
Soul," which he delivered in many places with great effect, 
but of which nothing remains among his manuscripts. Every 
one was delighted with his administration of the institution. 
In his letters of this period adverting to the fact that some 
people had already begun to predict that they should do a 
great work, he says — " But I do not wish to be high-minded, 
but fear, and gratefully accept what God may mercifully send. 
Our number is about 125 or 130, as many as I desire to start 
with." A month later, he writes — " I think I am giving uni- 
versal satisfaction, and the college moves on beyond all expec- 
tation. But I have had first, great anxiety, and since, rather 
too much applause." During these months also he set to work, 
and secured the co-operation of the ministers and leading men 
of the place, in a movement in behalf of the Temperance cause, 
delivering an able lecture on the subject. 

But this auspicious opening was destined to be followed by 
disappointments of which no one then conceived. By one of 
those strange freaks, or follies, of legislation, from which our 
country has never been entirely exempt, the wise and noble 
work thus begun was all reversed by the succeeding Legisla- 
ture. This is not the place to discuss the causes, or reveal the 
influences that led to so unlooked-for a result. Suffice it to 
say, that the appropriation was withdrawn, the law was re- 
pealed, and the project of a Normal School, in connection with 
university education abandoned. Seeing that the great object 
for which he had come to Kentucky, and on which he had 
labored in hope for nearly two years, was thus nipped in the 
bud, and that now there could be little prospect of raising Tran- 
sylvania University into a first-class institution, after all the 
changes and disappointments of its past history, Dr. Green 
felt himself at liberty to retire from the position, and accord- 
ingly resigned the presidency in the winter of 1857, on the pas- 
sage of the bill which destroyed the Normal School. 

He retired as one who felt that no responsibility of the fail- 
ure rested on him or his friends. He had accepted the high 
trust in good faith, had girded himself for a great and good 



PRESIDENCY OF CENTRE COLLEGE. 



55 



work, and, in the brief space allotted him, had accomplished 
enough to show what he could have done, if opportunity had 
been given. Xo part of his life had been more marked by 
activity. Young men had been drawn from all parts of the 
State. The annual commencement had never been attended 
with better success. And his whole instruction in the univer- 
sity, as well as his preaching, had elicited the admiration of all 
classes at Lexington. He was invited to preach in the churches 
of all denominations in the city, where laro-e audiences o-athered 
to hear him from Sabbath to Sabbath ; and in the afternoon of 
each Sabbath lie preached in the chapel of the university. In 
no sense had he failed. But through causes over which he had 
no control, his beloved State had failed to secure a great 
boon. 

Dr. Green was elected President of Centre College, August 
6, 185 7, and on the 1st of January, 1S5S, entered upon his 
appropriate duties, with strong hopes of usefulness and suc- 
cess. It was a position in every respect desirable, and one for 
which his mature experience and his well-tried abilities amply 
qualified him. It seemed to be a special distinction of Provi- 
dence, aud an omen of much good for the future, that he who 
graduated with its first small class, should now return, so richly 
furnished, to take charge of it as president. His inaugural 
address was delivered b-fore the Synod of Kentucky, at its 
meeting in Lebanon, October 14, 1S53. Like all his inaugural 
discourses it was- scholarly, sound in sentiment, eloquent in dic- 
tion, and full of practical suggestions of great importance. 

Centre College had thus far held an important place among 
the educational institutions of the TVest. For a quarter of a 
century, and almost from its foundation, it had stood as the 
leading college of the Presbyterian Church in the West. 
Under the long and faithful services of Dr. John C. Young — 
Dr. Green's immediate predecessor at Danville — the institution 
had been greatly prospered, and had risen to a position of com- 
manding influence in the church and in the country. All felt 
that in Dr. Green it had secured a head worthy to succeed 
those who had gone before, and competent to conduct it to still 



5(3 



JOINT PASTORATE. 



higher success. And it cannot be doubted that, but for the 
disasters of the civil war which soon broke out, and almost dis- 
banded its students, such would have been the result. As it 
was, he was destined to labor on, amid trials and discourage- 
ments, for five years, until death arrested his useful labors. 

In addition to the duties of his presidency, Dr. Green soon 
became actively engaged in pastoral work at Danville. In 
April, 1858, Dr. Alfred Ryers and himself received a joint call 
to the Second Presbyterian Church of the place, and were asso- 
ciated as colleagues in the pastoral care of that congregation. 
Here he preached with his usual power and success for several 
years, until the church edifice was destroyed by fire, and the 
congregation was left without a house of worship. Afterward 
the two congregations worshipped together in the building of 
the First Church, of which Rev. Dr. Yantis was at that time 
pastor, and with whom, after awhile, he also became associated 
in preaching — officiating on alternate Sabbaths until his death, 
though not installed as pastor of that church. 

During the first years of his administration, the college made 
steady progress, the number of students becoming greater than 
it had ever been before, and the funds being also much 
increased. But this prosperity and all his plans of usefulness 
were sadly changed on the breaking out of the war. As the 
crisis came on, and party lines began to be more strongly 
drawn, he found difficulties and discouragements which had not 
been anticipated, and which severely tried his spirit. Though 
the prospect for the college was satisfactory and encouraging, 
for the times, still he felt the want of that hearty co-operation 
and appreciation of his services which had so cheered and sus- 
tained him at Hampden Sidney. It was under such impressions 
that he penned the following lines to an intimate friend, "I 
long for quiet and leisure for nobler objects, and am more than 
half prepared to make my own definite arrangements to retire 
from the field, when the college shall have become what they 
call great, and devote my latter and best days to study and 
writing in the vicinity of some foreign university. Six years, 
I think, will bring three hundred students to the college. 



TRIALS AND CONFLICTS. 



5 7 



When these six years of toil and conflict are accomplished, 
what think you ? May I retire ? I ask your opinion seriously, 
but in entire confidence." 

Nevertheless, "bating not a jot of heart or hope" in the 
high endeavor to discharge his whole duty, he stood at Ms 
post and worked on, steadily and perseveringly amidst increas- 
ing toil and conflict even to the end. The times were out of 
joint, and even good men were unable to see eye to eye ; but 
God was on the throne, and he felt that no true work and 
labor of love would lose its recompense. " How we love to 
remember that kind old man," says a pupil of these last years, 
" as with bis hair fast whitening, and even then enfeebled step, 
he used to come through the Campus in the morning, and, with 
smiles of recognition, the affectionate clasp of the hand, and 
an anxious inquiry for our health, reply to our early salutations. 
With bowed head and dignified step he marches down the 
aisle to his chair, his eagle eye scans each answering counte- 
nance at roll-call, and each absentee is marked for censure or 
excuse. After reading some impressive lesson, as only he 
could read, from the pages of Holy Writ, how eloquent was 
his prayer for the spiritual and eternal welfare of his boys — 
how earnestly did he beseech God, that he would forgive the 
many impenitent among us, make us sensible of our condition, 
and turn all hearts heavenward ! With what fervor did he 
ask that teachers and pupils might be rendered faithful in the 
discharge of their respective duties, that the seed might here 
be scattered by diligent sowers, and falling into good ground, 
in due season bear fruit a hundredfold !" 

There was a singleness of aim in all the great purposes of 
life, and he was true to it to the last. He had worked on dif- 
ferent fields, and often far asunder, but in every office he had 
filled, whether as an educator or a minister of God, the grand 
purpose of all his exertions, the uniform pursuit of his life, had 
been to disseminate among his fellow-citizens, and especially 
among the educated youth of his country, a taste for solid and 
sanctified learning, to carry education into religion, and reli- 
gion into education, and to give to each its proper elevation 



58 



PURPOSE OP HIS LIFE. 



in the public esteem, to reclaim the young men of his genera- 
tion from all low and sordid interests, from all selfish and un- 
hallowed ambitions, and to fix their minds on objects of a 
nobler, even an immortal character. This was the key-note of 
his life, and he was true to it to the last. 

" Oh! be it ours at life's blest close to stand, 
Scarred though it be with sorrows, still erect 
In harness to the last, raising our heads, 
In the one battle-field, aloft to Thee ! 
Scourged, chastened, purified, and hearing now 
The inner voices chanting victory ! 
Like some old warrior chief on his last field, 
Dying with upturned face, and in his ears 
An army's songs of triumph, heedless all 
If so be the stern fight is Won at last, 
And his flag flies victorious in death!" 



CHAPTER YIIL 



Danville, 1863. 

Last Sickness and Death. — Multiplied Labors. — The Church and College. — 
Cause of his Illness. — Incessant Work. — The Closing Scene. — His Last 
Sermons. — Increased Spirituality. — Intense Sympathies. — Letters on the 
War. — Ministry of Love and Consolation. — His Funeral. — Burial. — Reso- 
lutions of his Church and of the Faculty. 

Dr. Green died as he had lived, in the midst of work. His 
last illness, which was sudden and of short duration, lasting less 
than a week, found him at the post of duty, and with all his armor 
on. He was filling an important and ever-widening sphere of 
usefulness (all feeling that he was the right man in the right 
place), dividing his time and energies between the duties of 
instruction in the college, the preaching of the Gospel, and the 
numerous calls of duty to the sick and dying around him — 
when the summons came. Never, perhaps, in life had his 
work been more pressing, his duties more multiplied, his 
preaching more acceptable, and his whole intercourse with those 
around him more blest of God, than during these last days at 
Danville. And when he fell in the midst of these useful labors 
— his eye undimmed, and his natural force unabated — being 
but in the fifty-eighth year of his age — many were the hearts 
far and near, that deplored the loss. How soon, and how sud- 
denly was the strong staff broken and the beautiful rod. 

He was taken sick on Thursday and died on the Tuesday 
following — May 26, 1863. It was soon after the terrible bat- 
tle of Perry ville, near Danville, when the college and the 
churches of the place were turned into hospitals for the sick, 
wounded, and dying soldiers ; three thousand of whom, from 
first to last, were brought there to be cared for. For days 
and nights his time and strength were devoted to the relief of 



GO 



LAST ILLNESS. 



the sufferers — visiting the sick, ministering to the dying, bury- 
ing the dead, and giving comfort and counsel to the living, and 
at the same time carrying on his instructions in the college, 
and preaching on the Sabbath. It was too much for his highly 
wrought sensibilities. His physical system was overtaxed, and 
fell an easy victim to disease in the almost pestilential condition 
of the atmosphere then prevailing at Danville — his own resi- 
dence being very near the college, which had been used as a 
hospital by one army or the other for many months. 

On Thursday morning he was making a call at the house of a 
friend, and complained of chilliness. The lady, observing his 
pallor, offered to send him home in her carriage, but he declined, 
saying that the walk in the fresh air and sunshine would warm 
and revive him. His family were not at home, but one of his 
daughters, reaching the house about fifteen minutes after him, 
was met at the gate by a servant who begged her to hurry in, 
as he was very sick. Physicians were summoned at once, and 
quickly arrived ; but he was already in a congestive chill. It 
was a mortal illness from the first. That evening he became 
delirious, and all through the night, and the next day and 
night, he was in extreme agony. A second chill on Friday was 
followed by paralysis, and he sank into a state ot unconscious- 
ness, from which he could be aroused only a few moments at a 
time. Says the daughter who describes the scene : " I think 
he must have had conscious intervals. I begged him if he 
knew me to press my hand ; instantly his fingers closed on 
mine, and for a moment he was convulsed in what seemed to 
be an effort to make himself understood. Just at the last, 
when no one supposed him conscious, some one mentioned his 
absent wife and daughter, who were hurrying home but could 
not reach him. His eye missed them ; one tear trickled down 
his cheek ; it was wiped away ; another came ; it was all he 
gave to earth. His face during the last day and night was 
peaceful as an angel's, and in the morning of the resurrection 
will hardly wear a more heavenly expression." 

He was often urged by his family to leave Danville, at least 
for a time, and get away from the poisoned atmosphere he had 



CAUSE OF HIS ILLNESS. 



61 



been so long breathing; for they saw that he was not well, 
and was reeling under double burdens. To the expostulations 
of friends and the remonstrances of physicians he made but one 
reply — he felt himself in no danger, his duty required him to 
remain at his post, the interests of the college demanded his 
presence, especially as two of the professors were gone. The 
exercises of the college were never suspended, though the 
building was used as a hospital. It mattered not how great 
was the excitement in the town, he still went on with the 
work of instruction, even supplying the place of the absent 
teachers. He also continued to preach, although his clothing 
would be drenched with perspiration after every effort ; and to 
teach, though often so unwell as to receive his classes in his 
bedroom. Insensible still to his danger, he remarked but a few 
days before his sudden and fatal attack, that his brain had 
never in his life been so clear and active, and that the only 
effort required in preaching was to check the rush of thought 
long enough to clothe it with expression. It is evident that 
the feverish, excited condition of nerves and brain in which 
he had been living for more than a year, the state of tension 
in which his system was kept by the troubled condition of the 
country, and the heavy draughts made upon his strength, 
proved too much for the delicate frame, and he fell an easy 
prey to the malaria. 

Instead of spending his vacations in quest of that rest and 
relaxation which his system required, he had invariably kept 
himself at work even when changing from place to place, either 
raising college endowments, or pleading the cause of education 
before the public, or preaching as opportunity offered. As a 
consequence, preaching, talking, writing, travelling in behalf 
of his work, formed a part of his regular summer recreations. 
He enjoyed little of the repose needed to recuperate the 
exhausted energies of so nervous a temperament. Xot that he 
was ever unduly urged to exertion of any kind; on the con- 
trary, so warm and tender was the interest he excited, that 
every influence was employed to induce him to treasure his 
strength. His activity both mental and physical was so great, 



62 



INCESSANT ACTIVITY. 



that he did not in fact know how to stop, and had never 
trained himself to the habit of taking refreshing rest. Work 
had become the law of his being, and he would continue to work 
till he sank from exhaustion. This was the case to the last. 
The warning example of others, and the repetition of violent 
attacks of illness produced no effect. He was deceived as to 
his own strength. He would not have wasted life, had he seen 
what he was doing. To no man was earth more beautiful, 
life, with home, and kindred, and friends, and country more 
dear. He did not know that the spirit had triumphed over its 
frail tenement, and was chafing to be free. He imagined all 
was well, because his mind was so clear and worked so vigor- 
ously. And the stroke that felled him was so quick and sharp, 
that no time was given to be undeceived. 

Every thing around him contributed to the heavy drain upon 
his mind, his thoughts, and his sympathies. While his own 
heart was troubled and saddened almost to breaking at the 
prospect of a still further protraction of the dreadful civil war, 
he w r as the comforter to whom sorrowing friends and neigh- 
bors turned for consolation in those dark sad days. Only a 
few days before his illness, he called to see a lady who was in 
deep distress; and when struck with his feeble and tired 
appearance, she inquired, "How are you, this morning, doc- 
tor ? " " Faint, yet pursuing, madam ; faint, yet pursuing 
was his characteristic reply. The answer seemed but a fitting 
epitome of his life. " About this time," says his daughter — the 
one who was with him in his last illness, and shared so deeply 
in all his thoughts and feelings, " I attended with him the 
funeral of an old friend, and remember, during the prayer 
offered by another minister, the pang that shot through me, as 
my eyes unconsciously rested on the face of my father. He 
was sitting with his eyes closed and his head thrown back and 
resting upon the folding doors that separated the rooms. Who 
will be next ? flashed through my mind. I did not think of 
him in that connection. I only saw there was too little of the 
earthly in his countenance, and too much of that which, resting 
on it as a halo of spiritual beauty, lured my mind to another 



LAST SERMONS. 63 

world ; and it gave me pain ; I could not tell why. But the 
thought that he would be taken so soon could find no entrance 
to my mind." 

It is interesting in this connection to notice the tone and char- 
acter of Dr. Green's pulpit ministrations, as he approached the 
terminus of life. From the very opening of the war, there was 
a marked change in his preaching. It savored less of the things 
of time, and more of the great things of eternity. Onward 
through the stormy days of 1862 and 1863, even to the close 
of life, it became more and more spiritual, more and more 
evangelical and pungent. He preached as one standing on the 
borders of the eternal world, awed, subdued, and chastened by 
the judgments of the Almighty which were abroad in the land. 
His office as an educator had led him through life, to preach 
much in behalf of great temporal interests, education, the ad- 
vancement of learning, philosophy, science, literature, liberty, and 
the well-being of the common country. But now his thoughts 
were chiefly bent on the grand essentials of the cross, and the 
necessity of a holy life, and preparation to stand before God. 
At the time of his death he was engaged in delivering a series 
of discourses on the Last Judgment. The very last sermon he 
preached was on the text, " Stand in awe, and sin not," which 
well defines the general tenor and aim of all his sermons during 
these closing years of his ministry. 

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. But this good man, 
humbled, appalled, and overwhelmed by the judgments of the 
Almighty upon his beloved country, and upon the people whom 
he had labored so long to elevate and bless, now set himself to 
the task of preaching to them the unsearchable riches and the 
consolations of Christ. The exceeding sinfulness of sin, God's 
hatred of and determination to punish it, Christ the strong 
tower of defence against all human calamities, Christ the 
Rock of Ages in whose cleft the bleeding hearts around him 
might find safety ; Christ the great Physician of souls, the ten- 
der Shepherd, the gentle Saviour, the living friend ; Christ 
the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, the refuge from 
the windy storm and tempest ; Christ, when there is sorrow 



64 



LAST LETTERS. 



upon the sea, and the troubled waters cannot rest — became the 
ceaseless and all-absorbing burden of his message. " Not often," 
says one who heard him at this time, " do we listen to such 
tender entreaty, to such melting appeals, to such thundering 
denunciation of sin, and such searching of the heart, laying 
bare its secrets as by sheet lightning, and flashing through the 
soul some awed sense of its actual depravity. And through 
the whole, it seemed as if this earth was not his home. Even 
then his pure soul was pluming its pinions for the heavenly 
flight." 

His letters to his family and friends during this period, were 
filled with remarks upon the war and the condition of the 
country. With a full foresight of the evils which were coming, 
he counselled moderation and forbearance, one toward another, 
and sought to prepare all hearts for the worst by drawing them 
more closely to Christ. In a letter to a brother minister writ- 
ten only a few months before his death, describing the fearful 
calamities of the times, he says — "What shall the Christian 
minister do ? Bow in awe, in penitence, in deep sorrow and 
compassion for his race, in earnest prayer, and humble trem- 
bling trust, before God. Pity — sincerely, tenderly, forgivingly 
pity — the madness of the people ; partake none of their mutual 
hatred ; love and pray for all ; preach Christ more than ever. 
Surely, it becomes us now, as ministers, more than ever to 
preach Christ and him crucified, solemnly, earnestly, affection- 
ately, simply, exclusively, seeing the time is short." To an 
absent daughter, he writes in the same spirit. "I think much 
and anxiously about you ; but what a blessing it will be, if 
these passing troubles lead us to cling closer to the cross and 
the Saviour. It. is not easy to withdraw our minds from the 
merely worldly view of the calamities, national and individual; 
but it is possible, and I often get a more solemn view of God's 
providential government, and the dreadful evil of sin, from 
these than from any other source. But then, there is a sweet peace 
in feeling that we are in his hands, and. that all his purposes 
toward us are love. I was filled with deep horror at the sen- 
timents expressed, by men of all classes, on the cars and at 



ON THE WAR. 



65 



hotels. Ruthless vengeance, total extermination, they sny, is 
becoming the general feeling. 'It is working admirably,' 
said a man, ' toward that point.' God sometimes allows 
such fiendish purposes to prevail: but never without tenfold 
retribution. Amidst these horrors present and prospective, 
let us flee to our sure refuge, until these calamities be over- 
past." 

In a letter to his daughter written a few months before his 
death, and in the prospect of seeing Kentucky soon the seat of 
war, he writes — " In this awful visitation we must recognize 
the hand of a righteous and terrible God, and bow in penitence 
and reverence before him, pitying our poor fallen race, and 
trembling in view of His judgments when abroad in the land. 
"What may fall on any of us at any time no man can foresee. 
To one who abhors and pities the madness of both parties, and 
sees in the success of either, only a different form of ruin ; 
silence and sorrow are the only course left open. Pray for 
this land bleeding by the wounds her own sons have inflicted, 
and for the church distracted and rendered worldly, and sin- 
ners perishing without thought of God. Let these scenes be 
but sanctified to make us better and wiser." 

In letters to his wife, written about this time, he unbosoms 
his feelings still more fully, showing what position he occupied, 
and with what spirit he sought to discharge the sacred func- 
tions of his ministry, even to the last. To Mrs. Green he 
writes, "Civil war in Kentucky is now, I fear, inevitable. 
We ought to realize its enormous evil and sin, but not exag- 
gerate them ; above all, not aggravate them, in our own circle, 
by partaking in its passions, or irritating, uselessly, either of the 
parties. All reasoning in such cases is folly ; we must accept 
the situation and be concerned only to do our duty. Of the 
terrible times which are coming, and are even now come, I 
think Christian duty, and ordinary Christian feeling and dis- 
cretion, suggest the following plain and undoubted principles 
for the guidance of our course. First, very solemnly (and the 
more solemnly the more calmly) realize the full measure of the 
evil that is upon us, and stand in awe, deep awe and reveren- 



CHRISTIAN SENTIMENTS. 



tial submission, before God ; and thus prepare to stand in our 
lot, and serve our generation, according to the will of God — 
quietly", prayerfully, cheerfully. I am persuaded we have seen 
but the beginning of evil, and if there be any substance in us, 
by grace or nature, now is the occasion to exercise and prove it. 
Let petty troubles and grievances real or imaginary be forgot- 
ten, or spurned away, amidst these appalling dangers to all. 
Second, partake not at all in the passions of either party. Both 
are wrong in many points — altogether wrong in their mutual 
hatred. But a mad bull would not be more impervious to rea- 
son, or more ferocious in his resentment of any interference, 
than both, and with equal sincerity. For each can make good 
a long, black catalogue of wrong things done by the leaders or 
zealots of the other side. Pity, forgiveness, wonder, sadness, 
and sincere sympathy with all the sufferers on either side, are 
the only emotions which one untainted with the poison can 
properly feel. Things must now run their course ; and it is the 
most childish imbecility to fret or repine, or attempt to influ- 
ence that course. Amidst much that I could have wished oth- 
erwise, yet I cannot but consider the men who adhere to the 
Union, and the repeated decisions of the majority of our people, 
as the safest and best. But do not argue, do not resent, all 
are mad. There is but one thing left for me, for us — to soothe 
by gentleness and love these asperities of feeling ; to learn and 
lay to heart the stern but necessary lesson God is teaching us, 
and so to adorn the doctrine of the Saviour, that when (if in 
our life) these calamities are over-past, we may have the love 
and confidence of all." 

The foregoing extracts, which might have been largely 
increased, will be sufficient to illustrate his sentiments and feel- 
ings as he beheld the dark clouds of war gathering thicker and 
thicker over his beloved country. If ever an American bosom 
beat with a pure and lofty patriotism it was his. Next to his 
devotion to the church of God was his attachment to this land 
of his birth. But ere these portentous clouds were broken, 
his tried and sorrowing spirit had passed to a world where sin 
and sorrow are unknown. 



LAST WORKS OF LOVE. 



07 



If it be indeed the crowning glory of the just, that his path 
shineth brighter and brighter to the perfect day, that blessed 
and glorious distinction was his. It was a source, not only of 
gratitude, but of sweet delight to his family and friends, to 
know that the purity and elevation of his character shone re- 
splendently in the extreme hour of test and. trial. When 
Kentucky was convulsed with dissensions in every church, 
every neighborhood, and almost every family, to a degree of 
which the united North and united South knew but little, that 
wisdom which cometh down from above, which is first pure, 
and then peaceable, gentle and easy to be entreated, shed its 
mild radiance over the closing days of a life ended in storms. 
Shaking from himself the dust of the strife, and girding on 
afresh his spiritual armor, refusing to echo the violence of any 
party, and letting his moderation be known to all men, he 
went in and out amid the fierce partisans, calming the bitter- 
ness, and softening the asperities of faction, and curbing, not 
ministering to, the conflicting passions of an excited commu- 
nity, comforting the bereaved of all classes, soothing the suffer- 
ing and afflicted, and arousing the souls around him to some 
vivid conception of the awful judgments of God. Such was 
the work — such the blessed ministry of love and mercy in 
which this great and good man spent his last days on earth, 
wore his life away, and fell as the true soldier of Christ would 
ever wish to fall, a martyr to duty. 

The funeral services at his death were held in the First Pres- 
byterian Church of Danville, attended by a large concourse of 
citizens, and the students and faculties of the college and theolo- 
gical seminary. An appropriate and eloquent discourse, from 
the text, " I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, 
I have kept the faith," was preached by the Rev. Robert G. 
Brank, of Lexington, in which, after recounting the distin- 
guished services, the varied learning, the shining virtues and 
eloquence of the deceased, the preacher made a touching appli- 
cation to the members of the church of which he had once been 
pastor, and to the students of the college over which he had so 
lately presided. Rev. Win. J. McKuight, the acting pastor of 



GS 



FUNERAL SERVICES. 



the church, also took part in these funeral services. At the 
conclusion of these impressive solemnities at the church, an 
immense procession of persons in carriages, on horseback, and 
on foot, followed his mortal remains to the grave, all the busi- 
ness houses of the place being closed. His body was laid to 
rest in the cemetery at Danville, there to await the resurrec- 
tion of the blest. To the college, to the church, to the commu- 
nity, to the State, the loss was great, to his family irreparable. 
But to him the change was eternal gain. "And I heard a 
voice from heaven, saying unto me, write, Blessed are the dead 
which die in the Lord, from henceforth, yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labors, and their works do follow 
them." 

A few weeks after his death, a public meeting of the Second 
Presbyterian Church of Danville, of which he had been pastor, 
was held to express their sense of the bereavement, and their 
grateful appreciation of his services. A minute was adopted, 
which after reciting the principal events of his life, and the 
several offices he had held, in different parts of the country, 
closes with the following paragraph and resolutions : — 

" Few ministers of the Gospel in our country have held so large a number of 
important, useful, and responsible positions. It is to be especially noticed that 
he abandoned those previously occupied, to accept one still more important, 
only at the call of the Synod to which he belonged, or that of the General 
Assembly, or of the trustees of the public institutions in which he spent the 
greater part of his life in the service of education, both secular and theological. 
Therefore, 

"Resolved, 1st. That in the death of the Rev. Lewis W. Green, D. D., the 
Presbyterian Church of the United States has lost one of its ablest, most hon- 
ored, and most useful ministers — one who had spent a whole life-time in 
the service of the educational interests of the church, and the training of young 
men for the Gospel ministry. 

" 2d. That the congregation mourn his loss as an able, faithful, and eloquent 
preacher of the Gospel, and as far as his official duties permitted, a sympathiz- 
ing and diligent pastor, ever ready to administer comfort to the afflicted, and 
instruction to those needing or desiring it. 

"3d. That they tender to his family their tenderest sympathy and condo- 
lence for his death, especially under circumstances so peculiarly trying and 
painful." 



RESOLUTIONS ON HIS DEATH. 



00 



The following paper from the records of the college may be 
subjoined, as serving to show the estimation in which he was 
held by his colleagues of the faculty. 

"At a meeting of the Faculty of Centre College, held May 28, 1863, the 
following Preamble and Resolutions were adopted : — 

" Whereas an all- wise though mysterious Providence has seen fit to remove 
from us, by death, the Rev. L. W. Green, D. D., for nearly six years the Presi- 
dent of this institution ; therefore, 

" Eesolved, That in this dispensation of Divine Providence we recognize the 
will of Him, whose ways are not as our ways ; whose path is in the great waters, 
and whose footsteps are not known. 

" Eesolved, That in the removal of the Rev. Dr. Green from the superintend- 
ence of this institution, Centre College has lost one of its oldest and warmest 
friends ; one who had devoted himself to the furtherance of its welfare as, next 
to the preaching of the Gospel, the great work of his life, and one whose labors, 
during the brief period so suddenly terminated, had been eminently successful 
in the promotion of its interest. 

"Eesolved, That Dr. Green is entitled to the grateful remembrance of the 
friends of Centre College for the wisdom with which, especially in the time of 
trial through which the institution has recently been called to pass, he guided 
its course amidst surrounding difficulties ; and for the cheerfulness with which 
he undertook and discharged duties that doubled his labors as an instructor — 
labors which, we fear, must have overtasked the energies of his exhausted 
frame. 

"Eesolved, That while we profoundly feel the loss which the College, the 
Church, and the Community have sustained in the decease of Rev. Dr. Green, 
we cherish also the conviction, that, released as he has been from a life of 
labor, cheerfully undertaken and faithfully performed in the service of God, 
ours only is the loss and his the infinite reward. 

"Eesolved, That we tender to the family of Dr. Green the assurance of our 
deepest sympathy in their sudden and sore bereavement ; while we pray that 
the God of all comfort would sustain them with the consolations that transcend 
all human sympathies. 

"Eesolved, That a copy of these resolutions be transmitted to the family of 
Dr. Green." 



CHAPTEE IX. 



Review of his Public Services. — Estimate of his Preaching.— Prominent Traits 
of Character. — His Fervor. — High Sense of Honor. — Conscientiousness. — 
His Beneficence. — His Learning and Eloquence. — His Excellence as an 
Instructor. — Influence as a College President. — Testimony of Dr. Dab- 
nej — His Strong Points.— His Elevated Tastes and Studies. — His Love of 
Books. — His Religious Devotion. — Personal Appearance. — His Polished 
Manners. — Easy Address. — Tact in Conversation. — Ministries of Love 
and Mercy. 

The foregoing narrative of Dr. Green's career will be sufficient 
to show in what demand his services were held by the public, 
and what reputation he had won, both as a preacher and a 
practical educator. His career began and ended at Danville, 
but between its opening and its close it had swept a wide com- 
pass of useful labors. He had strong personal aptitudes and 
affinities for the pastoral office, and loved above all things the 
work of preaching the Gospel. But God had led him through 
a long period into fields of labor where teaching, rather than 
preaching, was his immediate business. With the exception 
of his brief pastorate at Baltimore, for thirty years he was 
constantly engaged in the active service of instruction, either 
as a professor or as president of some institution of learning. 
During all this time, he never ceased to exercise the appropri- 
ate functions of his ministry. Few men preached more. And 
when he did preach, it was on the essential doctrines and duties 
of the Gospel, which he pressed with all his might on the con- 
sciences of men. Considering the amount of time he spent in 
the work of teaching, and considering also the state of his 
health, which was never robust, his ministry was a laborious 
one ; and it cannot be doubted that it was the means of turning 
many to righteousness. 

But it was chiefly through the responsible positions- he occu- 



ESTIMATE OF HIS PREACHING. 



71 



pied in colleges and seminaries that he exerted, both as an 
educator and a minister, his most important influence upon the 
church and the country. 

By all who knew him, he was regarded as one of the strong 
men of the church, competent to represent and defend her, 
whether from the pulpit or the press. His learning was accu- 
rate and extended, the result of careful reading and constant 
reflection, early begun and long continued. Far more than is 
usual in the ministry, he ranged beyond the limits of profes- 
sional study, keeping himself fully abreast with the science and 
literature of the times. Whenever he preached he was listened 
to with rapt attention by crowded audiences, especially by the 
educated classes, and by young men, who were attracted by 
the originality and grandeur of his conceptions, the startling 
boldness of his imagery, and the enthusiastic ardor of his man- 
ner. He was a man who could do nothing by halves, could say 
nothing by halves. His convictions of truth and duty were all 
positive — all clear, settled, immovable. The truth with him 
was all and every thing. When he took his position on 
any subject, he was ready to maintain it against all the world. 
His moral courage was of the highest order, because founded 
on the most intense convictions of truth. He had much of the 
ingenium perfervidum Scotorum. No man perhaps ever held 
his opinions with a firmer grasp, or expressed them in a tone 
of more absolute assurance. There was an elevation of tone, a 
certain loftiness of view, a range and grandeur of thought, in 
all his public performances, and even in his daily conversation, 
which indicated a mind in perpetual communion with the great 
things of God's salvation. 

These and other striking characteristics, with his large sym- 
pathies, his gospel unction, and his impassioned, extemporane- 
ous delivery, rendered him at all times a popular and much 
admired preacher. All who heard him, recognized at once a 
man of superior intellect, and a minister not unworthy of his 
high vocation as God's ambassador. He had an inexhaustible 
flow both of thought and diction. His style was diffuse, classic, 
ornate, and full" of those forms of expression which marked the 



12 



TRAITS OF CHARACTER. 



play of a vivid imagination. His mind teemed with images of 
grandeur. His fertile, brilliant fancy, revelling, as with a poet's 
or an artist's eye, on scenes of sublimity and beauty, gave a 
gorgeous coloring to his language, and at times seemed almost 
to overshadow his other faculties. By some, this was regarded 
as a fault, and as scarcely in keeping with the simplicity of the 
pulpit. A severe critic can no doubt find something to disap- 
prove on this score in bis published sermons. But it must be 
borne in mind, that the lofty and gorgeous diction which 
marked his pulpit performances, was in harmony with the mag- 
nificent themes which he handled, and the wealth of thought 
which he lavished upon them. We can forgive a fault of mere 
taste, when it stands in the presence of so many substantial 
excellences. They are but spots on the sun. In the language 
of one who knew and loved him well — " He was a man of 
genius, of learning and piety, eminently a good man, though 
subject to the defects and faults of fervid genius and bril- 
liant fancy. 

Nothing perhaps was more prominent in the whole career of 
Dr. Green, than his high sense of honor, his superiority to every 
thing mean and selfish, and his large-hearted beneficence. He 
sometimes failed to be appreciated by the selfish and ambitious, 
just because they could not comprehend the purity and eleva- 
tion of his motives. They thought him an abstractionist or a 
visionary, only because he was living so far above the range of 
worldly men. Yet his extreme conscientiousness and adher- 
ence to principle, never unfitted him for the practical duties of 
life, or interfered in the least with the genial flow of all those 
social and domestic virtues which made his intercourse delight- 
ful to all his friends. He was as practical as he was conscien- 
tious. He lived in the World, though not of it, and far above 
it. Faithfulness to God as a steward, the most uncompromis- 
ing faithfulness in the discharge of duty, even in that which is 
least, was one of the cardinal virtues of his life. When he 
was a mere youth, his scrupulous honesty displayed itself, in 
causing twenty dollars to be returned to a man from whom an 
agent had purchased a horse for him that much below the 



HIS FERVID ELOQUENCE. 



73 



value. Having inherited an estate which he regarded as a 
competency, he determined, after entering the ministry, to 
devote the whole income received from the church for his ser- 
vices, to beneficent purposes. This decision he carried out with 
faithful exactness. When necessity compelled him to use for 
private purposes any part of his salary, he would in the fol- 
lowing year or years refund through some channel all that 
had been thus temporarily appropriated ; and so well did he 
balance his accounts with his Master, that a few months before 
his last illness he informed one of his children, that of all he 
had ever received in the world, whether from a salary or other 
sources, one-half had been given in one form or another to the 
church. This large and long-continued beneficence, as unos- 
tentatious as it was unusual, demonstrates how unselfish and 
complete had been his consecration to God. 

By his scholarly culture, his enthusiastic zeal in the cause of 
education, and his impressive eloquence in the pulpit, Dr. 
Green was eminently fitted to fill the position of president of 
a college. He had the important gift, essential to all success- 
ful educators, of imparting his own enthusiasm to his pupils. 
He took large and exalted views of truth and duty, appeal- 
ing to every manly and noble sentiment, and clothing his 
thoughts in a style of sublimity and beauty well calculated to 
strike the ingenuous minds of youth. The fine play of his pro- 
lific imagination, the bold, free, extemporaneous delivery, the 
rich exuberance of his matter, rendered his preaching as well 
as his lectures exceedingly attractive to his students. He 
loved his high vocation as a minister of God ; he also loved and 
magnified his office as an instructor of youth. In enthusiastic 
ardor for the higher learning, in the ability to communicate 
that ardor to the minds of others, and in his warm fellow-feel- 
ing for the young, no man in our country has perhaps ever 
excelled him. His pupils at Hampden Sidney and at Danville 
loved him like a father. And the secret of their affection was 
that he regarded and treated them as if they had been his sons. 
He won the good, he both conquered and won the bad, by 
kindness. He well expressed his theory on this point, when 
4 



74 



ABILITY AS A TEACHER. 



he once asked, concerning the qualifications of certain teachers, 
•whether the}^ could love a boy in all his badness ? These 
diversified gifts and attainments — his great thoughts, lofty- 
diction, impassioned oratory, intense convictions, bold imagery, 
strong enthusiasm, accurate scholarship, wide range of reading, 
deep earnest voice, and ready willingness to enter into conver- 
sation, and pour out instruction on almost every branch of 
science, literature, and art — altogether, made him one of the 
most entertaining of men to those who were under him in the 
capacity of learners. In the teacher they always found the 
sympathizing friend and the genial companion. In the 
preacher they beheld a living model of high Christian charac- 
ter, of every generous liberal sentiment, of every manly and 
noble virtue. Few college presidents have ever been more 
sincerely loved, more ardently and reverently admired by his 
alumni than Dr. Green. They saw in him only the great, 
good, and true man, whose highest aim was to train them for 
usefulness here and immortality hereafter. 

Rev. Dr. R. L. Dabney of the Union Theological Seminary, 
Virginia, speaking of the time he was President of Hampden 
Sidney, gives the following estimate of him : " As a teacher, 
Dr. Green was undoubtedly able, animated, and successful. 
He aroused and elevated the faculties of his pupils. As a 
preacher, he was often very eloquent. He always preached 
without written preparation. His style was ambitious, and his 
elocution ardent. He more often fell short of his full force 
(when he did fall short) from this cause ; namely — his ardent 
disposition led him to enlarge too much on the introductory 
parts ; so that he consumed his time and strength, and was 
sometimes obliged rather to huddle up the more important 
parts near the close. But his preaching was often truly 
fine." 

The strong points in Dr. Green's character, both as a man 
and a minister, shining out in all his intercourse with God and 
his fellow-men, and distinguishing his whole public and private 
life, might be summed up in the following : an intense con- 
sciousness of his responsibility to God, a realizing assurance of 



TASTES AND STUDIES. 



15 



the shortness of life, the nearness of eternity, the existence of 
heaven and hell, a stern and uncompromising sense of duty on 
the ground of principle, and an overflowing tenderness, sym- 
pathy, and love for every thing around him — his family, his 
pupils, the people of his charge, the whole brotherhood of man- 
kind. His wealth of affection, of all gentle, generous, and 
kindly feelings, was equal to his wealth of thought. As a 
pastor and an educator, he was to all under his care a father 
and a friend; while in his own domestic circle, no man could 
more fully exemplify the sacred relations and endearments of 
the Christian home. 

One feature, already adverted to, in Dr. Green's character 
that impressed itself upon every one who came into daily con- 
tact with him, or even conversed with him or heard him 
preach but once, was the peculiar elevation of his mind. He 
seemed to live and move in an atmosphere of great ideas and 
of noble sentiments. He had a keen eye for the sublime and 
beautiful in nature, in art, in revelation ; and his enjoyment was 
exquisite, whether gazing in his lonely walks on the wonder- 
ful works of God in nature, or holding converse in his study 
with the mighty dead of other ages through pi*oductions of 
human genius, or, rising still higher, to communion with God 
as he contemplated the unsearchable riches of the sacred 
word. It is difficult, by any mere description, to give to one 
who did not know him, a just conception of this uniform eleva- 
tion. In the pulpit, the moment he began to speak, he lifted 
his hearers above the level of the common-place, and they felt 
that they, were on a new track and higher ground. The topic 
might be old, but the method was new: the argument, the 
illustration, the handling all new. In conversation, especially 
with scientific persons who could appreciate the subjects, his 
thought and diction assumed the same elevated cast. And in 
such discussions he found intense enjoyment. 

Xowhere, however, did he find a keener delight than when 
alone in his study. There, surrounded by his books, he thought 
out and prepared those trains of argumentation and appeal 
which were to be reproduced in the pulpit and the class-room, 



7G 



KEY-NOTE OF HIS PREACHING. 



and occasionally to appear in his educational and religions 
discourses. His study was a sanctuary consecrated to thought, 
consecrated to communion with his books and with God. He 
handled a book with the tender carefulness of a mother hand- 
ling her child. It. was an object of love, almost of reverence. 
He never marred its fresh beauty. Though deeply and often 
studied, there was nothing save an occasional pencil-mark, to 
indicate that it had ever been opened. There were probably 
few better private collections in the country. His library com- 
prised more than three thousand volumes, selected by himself 
with much care, and consisting largely of German, French, and 
choice classical works, with the standard English authors in 
science and literature. 

But the fire that glowed so ardently in this sanctuary was 
not kindled at the altars of human genius and learning alone. 
He was a man of prayer, and held daily communion with his 
God and Saviour. He had learning, he had eloquence, but above 
all he had piety, kindled and sustained at the cross. He had 
the heart of love, the unction of the Divine Spirit. It was 
consecrated talent that gave power to his life and ministry. 
In a sermon on the parable of the talents, he struck the key- 
note of all his preaching, and all his educational labors, in the 
following emphatic words : " If in this land of unfettered free- 
dom and overflowing prosperity, there be one necessity more 
urgent than all others, it is the demand for holy talent, the 
necessity for consecrated learning. It is that men should rise 
up on our soil, strong in native intellect, rich in acquired 
learning, filled with the spirit of the Lord, to walk boldly forth 
over the whole field of human science, gathering its scattered 
riches, digging deep for its precious ore, and from the Babel of 
discordant opinions drawing fresh materials to build up in new 
glory the temple of the Lord." 

These were not words that should serve merely as a sign- 
board to direct others. They were words of which his own 
life was the illustration. He preached and practised the Bible 
doctrine of consecration in its integrity. We have already seen 
and noted his struggles with the spirit of worldly ambition, 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 



77 



how first one and then another cup of hope and expectation 
was dashed from his lips, before he could make the surrender 
which conscience demanded. But from that time no part of 
the price was kept back. The decision Avas unreserved, com- 
plete. Life, health, substance, all he had, and all he was, gold, 
frankincense, and myrrh, whatever is costliest and most pleas- 
ant, all were brought to the feet of Jesus. And now looking 
back over his laborious, faithful, and sometimes tearful life, so 
fraught with patience and self-sacrifice, so chastened by suffer- 
ing, so subdued to the humility of the Gospel, and so elevated 
to its grandeur, we may say of him without sacrilege, that the 
zeal of God's house hath consumed him. 

In personal appearance Dr. Green was a man of medium 
stature, erect and well proportioned, though rather spare in 
flesh, of unpretending manners, with bright dark eyes, a highly 
intellectual face, his dark hair slightly waving and revealing 
an expansive brow. His countenance, except as it was lighted 
up in the glow of animated conversation, and the pleasant and 
playful pastimes of social and domestic life, which had an unu- 
sual charm for him, wore an expression of gravity and profound 
meditation, as of a man whose mind was habitually engaged 
on the grand themes and problems of human knowledge. This 
was his aspect in the repose of silent and thoughtful study. 
But he could easily unbend and disport himself. In the bosom 
of his family, when conversing with his children or intimate 
friends, and in the social circle, when stimulated by the pres- 
ence of cultivated people, his face would light up as with a 
gleam of sunshine, his eye twinkle with humor, and his whole 
conversation would sparkle with flashes of wit and joyousness. 
On rising to speak also before an audience, his countenance 
was often flushed with the intense excitement of his intellectual 
and moral powers. In the progress of discourse his whole form 
and features seemed to glow and dilate to the utmost, under 
the kindling emotions which filled and fired his soul. On such 
themes as man's immortality, and the redemption of the cross, 
when excited by the presence of a large audience, he often 
preached like one inspired. 



78 



POLISHED MANNERS. 



Dr. Green was a noble type of the gentleman, and that in 
the highest and best sense of the word. He left this impres- 
sion on all who knew him. And there was another character- 
istic about as strongly marked. He was a noble type of the 
Christian. It is in no spirit of mere eulogy that this statement 
is made. AH who ever came in contact with him long enough 
to see what he was, and were themselves capable of apprecia- 
ting such qualities, know that the statement is the simple 
truth. There was a tone of gentility and refinement in his 
address, which gave him easy access to ladies and gentlemen 
of the highest social standing, and attracted such persons to 
his friendship and to his pulpit ministrations. Wherever he 
lived — in Pittsburgh, in Baltimore, in Virginia, in Kentucky — 
and wherever he travelled, he mingled freely with the leading 
people of the country, and found associates in men of science, 
in members of the learned professions, and in the statesmen of 
the land, not less than among his own brethren of the ministry, 
and other classes of society. And as to the depth, earnestness, 
and sincerity of his religion — probably there never was a man 
who could doubt it, unless it was himself. To any suggestion 
of unworthy means or ends, his invariable reply was in these 
simple but weighty words, "Honesty — humble, downright, 
pious honesty — is the only pledge of success, I mean permanent 
success." 

In the intercourse of society, Dr. Green's manner was pol- 
ished and affable in the highest degree. His kind feeling and 
his easy pleasant address, enabled him to approach all classes 
of people, and he lost no opportunity of doing them good, by 
speaking a good word for his Master. With a deep insight 
into human nature, and a nice sense of propriety, he at once 
w T on upon the good will of the persons he met, and ere they 
were aware he had them engaged in a conversation about 
spiritual things. Among his happiest traits was the wonderful 
facility he possessed of bringing the subject of personal religion 
home to people without giving offence. The subject was so 
familiar to him, that he would introduce it, and press it in the 
most natural and pleasant manner imaginable, without a shadow 



CONVERSATIONAL POWERS. 70 

of the stiffness and effort that so often embarrass attempts 
of the kind, made with the best intentions. Even in promiscu- 
ous society, if the opportunity presented itself, the tact with 
which he would turn conversation into that channel was so 
remarkable, that it seemed as if nothing else could have been 
expected of him, and that it was the most natural and proper 
thing for him to talk on the subject, and would be for every- 
body else if equally gifted. His fine address gave him great 
ascendency over the young, and was especially useful in his 
intercourse with the gay and worldly. Having mastered them 
with their own weapons of wit or logic, the gravity and 
earnestness with which he would urge his advantage, never 
failed to leave a deep impression of the man and his religion, 
and very happy were the results in many instances of this 
way-side preaching. He was often grieved and surprised at 
the reluctance of professing Christians to dwell on these topics. 
He used to say that the very mention of heaven seemed to 
scare some very good people almost out of their senses. 

Another beautiful trait of his character was that which shone 
forth in his visits to the house of suffering and sorrow. He had 
known what it was to wrestle with doubts and fears and mani- 
fold temptations, and from his own deep experience, he knew 
how to comfort the mourning, the despondent, the tempest- 
tossed soul. A son of thunder in the pulpit, when denouncing 
God's law against iniquity, he was equally a son of consolation 
at the bedside of the suffering and the dying. That deep 
spirituality which diffused itself through all the associations of 
life, and permeated his whole nature as a vital, controlling 
principle, made itself felt with wondrous power during seasons 
of bereavement and affliction, in instructing, sustaining, and 
comforting the weak, the wavering, the bereaved, and the 
dying. Many a sinking saint, many a broken-hearted mourner, 
many a conscience-stricken and trembling sinner, did he cheer 
in the hour of anguish, and inspire with new hopes by his 
fatherly counsels, his earnest prayers, his faithful presentation 
of Gospel truth, and his voice of sympathy and love. And 
never during his whole earthly pilgrimage did these character- 



80 



LAST DAYS. 



istics appear in greater perfection than during those last sad 
days at Danville, when he went the rounds of his daily minis- 
tries of mercy among the sick and dying, telling of the love of 
Jesus, and pointing the trembling soul to that heaven to which 
he himself so soon ascended. His last days were his best and 
brightest — having least of earth, and most of heaven. His 
career, in its ending, was like the setting sun, which, large and 
full-orbed, shines with its softest loveliest light as it leaves 
the world. 



CHAPTEE X. 



Dr. Green in his Family. — Members of his Home Circle. — The Husband and 
Father. — Intensity of his Affections. — Picture of Domestic Happiness. — 
Description by Dr. Foote. — Mrs. Green. — Poetry. — Education of his Daugh- 
ters. — Eeligious Character of his Correspondence. — Beautiful Letters. 

Thus far we have contemplated the character of Dr. Green 
chiefly as it appeared in his public and official relations. After 
tracing his early history, and his introduction to the ministry, 
we have seen him successively in the pulpit, in the professor's 
chair, in the pastoral office ; and have pointed out his work as 
a preacher, as a theological teacher, and as president of three 
different colleges. 

But any account of such a man would be imperfect without 
bringing into view those qualities which found their develop- 
ment in the more private relationships of life. It is not idle 
curiosity, but a natural and useful instinct, which prompts us 
to follow a good man into his domestic retreats, to look in upon 
the home circle, and see how he appeared to those who knew 
him best. Where dwellest thou? was an inquiry made even 
of the Master. In the present case there are ample materials 
for a full and distinct portraiture of Dr. Green's whole interior 
life, as it manifested itself in his daily intercourse with those 
nearest him, in the innumerable courtesies and graces that 
distinguish the Christian father, husband, and friend. 

His immediate family consisted of his life's companion and 
two daughters, who all survived him. He had never lost any 
children. No man could have been more blest in his house- 
hold. From the first he felt the deepest interest in the educa- 
tion and the spiritual welfare of his daughters. His letters to 
them, when absent at school, are filled with advice and direc- 
tion about their studies, and breathe most earnest prayers for 
their salvation. Though he had them trained in the best 



S2 



DOMESTIC LIFE. 



schools of the country, he was himself, to a degree not often 
equaled, their intellectual instructor and their spiritual guide. 
And he had the unspeakable joy of seeing them both at an 
early age members of the Presbyterian Church. 

It was, indeed, in the sanctuary of home, when surrounded 
by his family and friends, that Dr. Green's character shone with 
peculiar lustre. His house was his Eden, and he threw over it 
the joyous radiance of his own loving nature. His children 
grew up to be his companions, and he entered into their feel- 
ings, sports, and studies with all the tenderness of parental 
affection. Nothing could exceed the intensity with which he 
loved them, and the attachment with which he bound them to 
himself in return. That intense and sacred affection with 
which, from infancy, he had cherished the memory of his 
saiuted mother, when he became a husband and a father, 
seemed to be the very type and measure of the feelings which 
clustered around all the loved ones at home. His studies, his 
letters, his prayers, all bore witness to the fervor of his love 
for those whom Providence had committed to his care. Those 
gentle graces and virtues which in all his intercourse in the 
wider circles of society made him the agreeable companion and 
the whole-hearted friend, assumed their intensest glow and 
wore their most graceful drapery in the home circle, and made 
him the life aud joy of his household. 

We may not intrude too far into the sacred sanctuary of 
domestic life, even to draw a picture of more than usual 
loveliness. His private letters when from home, to the dif- 
ferent members of his family, reveal a tenderness of love, a 
watchfulness of affection, a deep solicitude for each one's salva- 
tion, a skill in counsel, a fidelity to God and truth, and a ma- 
ture and heavenly wisdom which show their author to be one 
of the noblest and best of men. One passing glimpse, however, 
of the home circle and of the loved ones there, we may, without 
impropriety, give. It is in the descriptive words of an intimate 
friend who was a frequent visitor at his house during the period 
of his presidency of Hampden Sidney College, and who thus 
reveals the interior workings of his heart : — 



THE HOME CIRCLE. 



83 



"For a long time," says Dr. Foote, "I was doubtful which ruled strongest in 
his heart, the desire of excellence, or the affections: and I am not sure that I 
ever settled that question. I know that often, very often, he startled me by . 
the strength of both these riding powers, in a nearness that forbade their sepa- 
ration, even in thought. And then, where in earthly things lay his heart's 
treasure : where next, after the Lord of Glory, whose love and fear reigned 
strongest, as I thought — where was the casket of the most precious jewel ? In 
his domestic circle was evidently his greatest joy. And where then ? When 
his daughter just in girlhood glided in, in her simple attire, and modest mien, 
and artless nature, his eye, cheek, his hand, if not his voice, whatever might 
be the stage of our discussion, revealed the unutterable fondness of his heart. 
' Surely,' I have said to myself, as the vision passed before me like Jesse's son, 
1 this is the priceless jewel.' Then again, when the little one — there were but 
two — came in, sometimes toddling carelessly along, sometimes running in glee, 
and sometimes gravely and carefully imitating her mother's step and air, the 
inimitable air and manner of loving kindness with which he would bend to 
her — kiss and raise her to the settee, and listen for a moment if she had any 
message for him, and drop a word or two — 'Oh, there,' I have thought, 'is 
the little nestling that has gone into the inner treasury.' And then again, 
when all three were present, the mother and the daughters, the manly com- 
placency with which he looked upon and listened to the wife and mother, there 
was no doubt she reigned queen in the happy family." 

Dr. Green was greatly blest in the chosen companion of his 
life, and he felt that whatever degree of happiness and success 
had attended his pathway was largely due to her influence. In 
hearty sympathy with all his plans and. purposes, capable of 
entering fully into all his views and feelings, and endowed 
with those at tributes of character which win respect and friend- 
ship, Mrs. Green not only contributed largely to his influence 
in every field of his influence, but by taking upon herself the 
chief burden of all domestic cares and responsibilities, enabled 
him to accomplish an amount of study and of professional labor 
which otherwise would have been impossible. The parting 
tribute of the Baltimore church shows in what loving apprecia- 
tion she was held as a pastbr's wife. And it is on record that 
in every sphere of his educational labors his home had always 
been a centre of attraction and of pleasant social intercourse to 
his students. She delighted in every thing that could gratify 
his tastes and contribute to his great work. Both at Hampden 



81 



POETRY. 



Sidney and at Danville her house was the home of young men, 
often several at once, studying for the ministry, and without 
the means of self-support; and whatever additional burdens 
this entailed were cheerfully borne by her for the common 
good. At Allegheny Seminary, as well as at Hampden Sidney 
College, students that were sick were taken to their house and 
kindly nursed until restored to health. 

The following little effusion, penned by Dr. Green soon after 
his marriage, and at a time when he expected to visit Europe 
unaccompanied by Mrs. Green, reveals the depth and tender- 
ness of feeling with which he contemplated the separation : — 



"When on the bounding wave I ride, 
Or gaze upon the calm, blue sea, 
How sweet to have thee at my side, 
And whisper all my thoughts to thee. 



" When far from country, friends, and home, 
And all that are so dear to me, 
In pensive solitude I roam, 

How sweet to have one smile from thee. 



" But if I still must go alone, 

Whene'er my thoughts may wander free, 
And evening shades come gathering on 
To tell me I may think of thee, 

" At sunset, from some Alpine height, 
I'll gaze far o'er the western sea, 
And proudly think that parting light 
Will rise in glory soon on thee. 

"And while in distant lands I rove, 

Though friends should all forgetful be. 
I know that thou wilt faithful prove, 
And kindly still remember me. 

"And think you I could ever slight 
Those fond affections fixed on me ? 
Or ever cease, by day or night, 

To think and speak and dream of thee ? 



HIS DAUGHTERS. 



85 



"And when before God's throne on high 
I raise my voice and bend my knee, 
My fervent prayer, my earnest cry, 
My first, my last, shall be for thee." 

Twenty-nine years of uninterrupted domestic happiness — dur- 
ing which she had been his helper and his counsellor, sharing 
every thought and feeling of his heart, the devoted wife and 
the honored mother — attested the wisdom of his early choice, 
and illustrated the sacredness of that relation which he thus 
essayed to describe. 

As his daughters grew up, and were separated from him at 
school, he followed them with his tenderest affections, and his 
correspondence teemed with lessons of wisdom and experience. 
"The love of human applause," writes he to one of them, "is 
essentially an unhealthy stimulus to the human mind. The 
severe love of truth and knowledge, the calm repose on God, 
and solemn sense of duty — these are the principles that give at 
once stimulus and steadiness to all our energies. " Character," 
writes he to another, " Christian character, is fixed principle, a 
firm will controlling momentary impulses, self-conquest, victory 
over self. Character is our own, reputation comes from others* 
The former is the only sure mode of gaining the latter, and 
they usually go together. Wit, wealth, beauty, elegance, mod- 
esty, kind affections, generous and magnanimous impulses, edu- 
cation, accomplishments, all are of small avail for happiness or 
usefulness without character." 

The letters which were constantly passing between Dr. Green 
and his loved ones of the home circle, whenever they were sep- 
arated from one another, are models of ease and elegance, of 
the most sparkling vivacity, and the deepest spirituality. It 
was one of the pleasures of his life to hold this correspondence ; 
and he was unhappy if it was long interrupted. It is not neces- 
sary to draw largely here from these treasures. It will suffice 
to present a few brief extracts, simply as illustrations of their 
style and spirit, showing how he could mingle instruction with 
his most playful thoughts, and with affectionate tenderness 
seize every occasion for the inculcation of the great truths of 



86 



LETTERS. 



religion. Under date of April 27, 1839, while he was absent 
at his work in South Hanover Seminary, he closes a letter to his 
wife at Danville with the following allusion to their first-born 
daughter, then an infant : — 

" But as for that little angel — train her up for God, and dedi- 
cate her anew to Hitn daily : and if she be indeed very lovely, 
stand ready to have her transplanted to her proper place at 
any moment ; for who knows the day or the hour ? Let us 
thus learn to consider God's mercies as loans ; and while we 
rejoice in the blessing, let our exultation be subdued by a 
consciousness of the uncertainty of all human possessions. I 
feel it would be a desolation to lose her, an agony to see her 
suffer ; but my love may turn to idolatry. Remember we have 
transmitted to her a fallen nature, and the elements which form 
the rainbow may become a thunder-cloud. Nothing but God's 
grace can save her." As this daughter grew up, one of his 
letters to her, accompanying a copy of " Mrs. Hemans " which 
he had bought for her, closes with a quotation which he thus 
beautifully appropriates — "I have tried to adopt and apply it 
to my first-born. 

" ' I give thee to thy God, the G-od that gave thee, 
A well-spring of deep gladness, to my heart ! 

And precious as thou art, 
And pure as dew of Hermon ; He shall have thee, 
My own, my beautiful, my undefiled, 

And thou shalt be His child.' 

Heathen poetry has nothing so touching, or indeed so truly 
sublime, because heathen life had no feeling like that of a 

Christian father and mother. Oh ! that my J and L 

may be his children. You see, my dear daughter, how my pen 
runs on. I sat down to tell you that I had reached this place, 
and cannot withhold my feelings from the greatest, best inter- 
ests of my children. My watch says, almost ten ; everybody 
has retired ; and stillness prevails over all the grounds. It is 
the time for parents to bless their children, and commend them 
to God — the time for all of us to commit ourselves to our 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



87 



Father in heaven. May sweet rest, and thoughts of love, and 
trust in God be yours, my wife and daughters." 

In another letter to the same daughter he says — " The love I 
bear you is beyond expression, and how much my own happi- 
ness is involved in the dutiful reception of that love on your 
part, you cannot now understand. Such love is inseparable 
from a watchful and anxious care, and possibly in my feeble 
health, I may iudulge that anxiety too much. Yet it is a world 
of danger to the young, to all. Forgiveness is a word that 
seems too solemn for a mere man to use ; and yet, I remember, 
it is used in that prayer, which our Saviour has taught us — 
£ Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass 
against us.' And be assured that if an earthly father can so 
freely and joyfully forgive and forget, how much more freely 
will your Father in heaven forgive and pity. Do not fear then 
to approach the mercy seat of that eternal love, in comparison 
with which all human kindness is absolute indifference ; and 
let your confiding faith in your earthly father's love and sym- 
pathy, teach you the nature of that filial confidence with which 
you may come to our Father in heaven. Seek His face, my 
daughter, and learn how freely Jesus can forgive. Oh, taste 
and see that the Lord is good. Write me very soon, and 
believe me, with increased tenderness, your affectionate fa- 
ther." 

Many of these letters to his daughters were written on the 
Sabbath, and introduced with the remark, that while it would 
be a sinful violation of God's holy day to devote any part of 
it to worldly business, pleasure, or correspondence, yet it is a 
sweet and blessed privilege to talk to one another, by tongue 
or pen, of the goodness of God, the glory of heaven, and the 
love of that blessed Saviour who on this day rose from the 
dead, and wrought out our salvation. And in this spirit he 
wrote many a long letter, filling up the intervals between pub- 
lic preaching, by thus lovingly conversing with his absent chil- 
dren about Jesus and the things of His king-lorn. 

The following passages are from a letter addressed to both 
daughters, from the Virginia Springs, in 1S50 : — 



88 



MRS. GREEN. 



" Improve your voices, my dear children. You cannot take a piano or harp 
along with you as you travel, but you have a much superior instrument, which 
may be improved almost without bounds, and is far superior to any stringed 
or wind instrument of man's invention. This you can always take along for 
your own entertainment and your friends. Love your home, learn to make it 
happy to yourselves and your dear mother. There is nothing in this world 
so sweet and so sacred as home. The thought of it now is worth more to me 
than all the transient enjoyment of company, and all the glory, even, of this 
mountain scenery. 

" To-morrow is God's holy Sabbath. How will my daughters be employed ? 
Early awake — dressed — cheerfully employed in all the morning duties of the 
Sabbath? Your father will be engaged in prayer for you — will you pray for 
yourselves, and for him ? that we may be spared to each other long below, and 
meet again in heaven ? You can hardly think of your father as taken from 
you ; yet, my dear children, you must learn to view this as a certain reality. 
It will only make us love one another more tenderly, and begin our heaven 
here below. It is now late, and I am glad I have the opportunity of closing 
my first week in the mountains in talking with you. Let my accounts of you 
be such as a father loves to hear, and may we meet in peace and health, and 
long live in love — love to God and one another." 

From the letters to Mrs. Green, which abound in expressions 
of the most tender and devoted affection, we give, in this con- 
nection, a single paragraph : — 

"You seem to fear that I have some special annoyance — by no means, I have 
every comfort which a man can have, whose heart is five hundred miles out of 
his body. I have just received yours of the twelfth, and thank you a thousand 
times for it. Glad to see you are well and cheerful. Trust in God, for we shall 
yet praise Him. Is there nothing in signs ? The brightest sun, the purest and 
most bracing atmosphere, the happiest faces all around, seeming to rejoice with 
me at the news from home ? ' "Well and busy ' — then happy. Thank God and 
take courage. With a thousand anxieties and a thousand cheerful anticipa- 
tions blended strangely together, I remain, your ever affectionate 

" L. W. Green." 

The following beautiful extract is from a letter to his second 
daughter, written from Danville in 1860 : — 

"My dear L : It is now nine o'clock, Sunday night. I am just from the 

church, and though I have only a few moments, I cannot refrain from dropping 
a line or two to my own darling daughter. I had laid off a long letter for this 
afternoon, but the prayer-meeting appointed for three o'clock, at which I was 
requested to officiate, interfered. The sermon by Dr. Yantis was from a pre- 



EXTRACTS. 



89 



cious text, and well handled : ' Fear not, little flock ; it is your Father's good 

pleasure to give you the kingdom.' I could not but think of my little L as 

a lamb in that flock, and remember the promise of the Good Shepherd, that He 
will bear the lambs in His bosom. If He bears you, where is the danger ? What 
power can harm you ? If on His bosom, how near His heart ! How gently 
softly, tenderly, with His own Almighty arms, and on His own bosom of infinite 
and eternal love ! And then He bears you to a kingdom, beyond all earthly 
kingdoms, and that even a heavenly! 'And it is the Father's good pleasure.' 
Who can resist it ? It is a part of His own infinite blessedness to save sinners ; 
and there is a good pleasure, not a malignant pleasure as in inflicting misery, 
but a good, kind, benevolent pleasure — a good pleasure consistent with His 
holiness, justice, goodness, truth, with all His attributes. All are harmonized, 
all are magnified and made honorable in the salvation of His people. He can 
be just and justify the ungodly. Blessed thought — that the same arms of infi- 
nite love are stretched out over all the world, and embrace this night my L 

and J as well as those at home. Sweet be your rest, my daughter, as you lie 

there folded in those arms, so gently, so tenderly, so omnipotently, on that 
bosom so warm in its bleeding love. G-ood night, my daughter, under the can- 
opy of that 'good pleasure,' and may our last good night on earth be as full 
of cheerful hope, the precursor of a brighter morning." 

To these passages we subjoin one other extract, in a different 
vein, written to the elder daughter in 1855, while at Hampden 
Sidney, an illustration of that intellectual cultivation and com- 
panionship which existed in the home circle. 

" I ran off to hear Everett at Petersburg. An accomplished rhetorician, not 
a great orator (sit venia verbo), nor great man, me judice. But he was unwell, 
and did not do justice to the language or thought. A few magnificent pas- 
sages no doubt, ' where affection rises into reverence, and reverence melts back 
into affection,' in our contemplation of Washington. As an orator he lacks 
vivid emotion and electric power ; as a philosopher, profound thought. As a 
moralist and conservative patriot, his sentiments are beautifully correct and 
happily expressed. 'But as a work of art, was it not complete and perfect?' 
said a gentleman to me. Granted, in a sense, 3^et this is my objection. The 
summa ars is celare artem. I heard all through the scratch of a polished penj 
not the music of the spheres, or any of the sublime voices of nature or of hu- 
man passion. I saw the graceful step of a Knight of the Garter, or a Lord of 
the Bedchamber, not the massive form or gigantic stride of a Hercules. The 
beauty of a garden is not the grandeur of a forest. You can trim a hedge 
and train a honeysuckle, not the oaks of the forest. A beautiful experiment 
by Dr. Doremus cannot rival the whole gathered thunders of the tempest and 
the storm. It is artificial electricity, not lightning and thunderbolts. 



90 



EXTRACTS. 



" Now is not there a piece of criticism for you ? And late at night, too, with 
the March winds howling around, the great oak at my window now bending 
sullenly before the storm, then lifting its head as in defiance, and throwing its 
brawny arms abroad to meet the full fury of its foe ; the black gaunt clouds 
drifting silently over the sky, are driven careering before the tempest, while 
ever and anon a bright star is seen through the parted clouds, and the deep 
heaven of heavens beyond, serenely solemn, speaking amidst the voiceless 
midnight of immensity and eternity, of God and immortality. How strange, 
that even when we begin in jest, we close in earnest. I meant to amuse my- 
self with Mr. Everett's fondness for the 'stars,' and behold I am running on 
as one moonstruck. Eor 

"'Ye stars, ye are the poetry of heaven ! 
And in our aspiration to be great, 
We claim a kindred with you ; for ye are 
A beauty and a mystery, and create 
In us such love and reverence from afar, 
That fortune, fame, power, life have named themselves a star.' 

They that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and 
ever. But Lucifer, son of the morning, how art thou fallen ! Such genius, 
such aspirations to be great ! Such total ruin to himself and others ! A great 
star fallen upon the waters — burning as it falls — and its name was wormwood 
— the rivers and fountains became wormwood, and men died of their bitter- 
ness. — See Rev. viii. 11-13. 

"But, my dear, the night is far spent, physically as well as morally, the day is 
at hand; let us look to Him who is 'the bright and morning star,' that 
through the tender mercy of our G-od, the dayspring may visit us from on 
high. G-ood night, my daughter, and may our last night on earth, be followed 
by a glorious morning. Affectionately, Your Father." 



CHAPTER XL 



His "Writings. — Unpublished Sermons. — Inaugural Discourses. — Literary and 
Educational Addresses. — Lectures at the University of Virginia, — Ad- 
verse Criticism. — Method of Preparation for the Pulpit. — Estimate of his 
Preaching by Dr. Brank. —Estimate by Eev. W. G-. Craig. — Closing 
Tribute from a Lady. 

The sermons contained in the present volume are now pub- 
lished for the first time, and of course without the author's 
revision. Written, as they were, with no view to publication, 
and prepared, not for the eye of the critic, but for the ear of a 
popular assembly, they should be judged rather by the im- 
pression they were calculated to make on his hearers than by 
any abstract standard of perfect written composition. Though 
necessarily incomplete and fragmentary, they yet retain enough 
of original, striking thought, and enough of the speaker's fire, 
to be read with interest and profit, especially by those who 
ever heard the living voice that uttered these magnificent 
periods. Besides their intrinsic excellence, as containing the 
grand things of God's salvation, and of man's duty and des- 
tiny, they possess the additional value of completely revealing' 
the speaker's own heart and life. They show what he preached 
and how he preached ; the range of his subjects and his 
method of handling them ; what he depended on as the rock 
of his salvation, and by what principles he aimed to live and 
die. By his wide circle of friends they will no doubt be wel- 
comed as a noble monument to his excellence. 

But, during his life, Dr. Green was called, on special oc- 
casions, to deliver quite a number of inaugural discourses and 
other literary addresses, which were for the most part prepared 
with much care, and published at the time of their deli very. 
One of these, his inaugural address at the beginning of his 



92 



PUBLISHED ADDRESSES. 



professorship at Allegheny Seminary, has already been referred 
to as a production of great excellence. His inaugural address 
on assuming the Presidency of Hampden Sidney College in 
1849, written in his characteristic style of boldness and vigor, 
is a masterly defence of the higher collegiate education, replete 
with sound, practical sense, and abounding in passages of 
eloquence and power. In 1842 he delivered an address before 
the Literary Societies of Jefferson College, Pa., on the Philoso- 
phy of History, or the Development of God's Plan in the Prog- 
ress of Nations, embracing a wide range of thought, and an 
amount of historical information not often found in a single 
discourse. In the winter of 1850-1851 he delivered, at the 
University of Virginia, t wo lectures on the Harmony of Reve- 
lation and Natural Science, with special reference to Geology. 
This was one of the ablest productions of his pen, and was 
published, with a series of similar lectures by other prominent 
ministers, in a volume entitled " Lectures on the Evidences of 
Christianity." The two lectures occupy more than sixty oc- 
tavo pages, and were intended to bring into view the different 
opinions and theories of all the prominent modern writers on 
the subject. They show a vast range of reading and research 
in the wide fields of natural science, as well as in the more 
special province of the theologian. Every page gives evidence 
of the profound thinker and the man of learning. After his 
return to Kentucky he delivered two other inaugural dis- 
courses, both of which were published — one in 1856, as Presi- 
dent of Transylvania University and State Normal School, and 
the other in 1858, before the Synod of Kentucky, at his in- 
auguration as President of Centre College. In each of these 
he discusses with great fulness and power, that subject which, 
above all others, he had mastered — education — primary, col- 
legiate, and professional — in all its relations and bearings. The 
lofty patriotism breathing through these admirable discourses, 
their sound, practical principles and noble views, excited much 
attention at the time, and called forth letters of commendation 
and encouragement from some of the most distinguished edu- 
cators in America. One other address, at the dedication ot 



SCIENTIFIC LECTURES. 



93 



the Caldwell Female Institute in 1861, at Danville, in which 
he well describes woman's true sphere, education, and mission, 
completes the list of his published writings. 

The inaugural address before the Synod of Kentucky was 
republished by Dr. Van Rensselaer in The Home, the School, 
and the Church, the year following its delivery, under the title 
of the " American System of Collegiate Education." The lec- 
ture before the University of Virginia was also published in 
The Southern Presbyterian Review. It gave rise to some ad- 
verse criticism at the university. Dr. Green delivered it in 
his usual style of animation, without the use of notes, and was 
heard with great interest by the students. But he advanced 
certain opinions which were regarded as erroneous by some of 
the professors, and as misrepresenting the position of scientific 
men on the subjects under discussion. He was requested to 
modify or omit these views before the lecture went to press : 
but this he declined doing, and the lecture was published as 
delivered. He had taken much pains in the preparation of it ; 
and, in a private letter to a member of his family after the pub- 
lication, refers to it in the following terms : " It contains in a 
popular form the best and largest results of natural science — 
the views of all the great men about the universe. Its most 
peculiar view on the certain temporary extinction of suns, and 
the possible and probable suspension of light in our own sun, was 
stolen, reprinted in Boston, and circulated over the TTest and 
the nation ; and the editor who stole and used it as his own, as- 
sures me that it has given universal satisfaction at the North ; 
and it was considered by him as fair plunder as any other con- 
tribution to human knowledge." 

It may serve to illustrate the interest which the lecture, on 
its delivery, had excited among the students, to state that, at 
the next commencement following it, he was invited to deliver 
the annual literary address before the four societies of the 
university, which service he performed in a style acceptable to 
all parties. 

Some of Dr. Green's sermons were written out with great 
care, at least so far as he wrote them at all : for his habit was t o 



04 



METHOD OF PREACHING. 



leave parts of them to extemporaneous delivery. Occasionally 
beads of discourse would be jotted down ; sometimes a skeleton 
reduced to writing, but it was seldom carried to the pulpit, 
and if produced there, proved a source of embarrassment rather 
than of help. On one of the few occasions toward the latter 
part of life, in which he ventured to use a manuscript, he was 
trammeled in the delivery. His usual method was to preach 
without manuscripts of any kind. His health not being very 
vigorous, and the manual labor and confinement of writing 
costing him much pain and exhaustion, he wrote very few dis- 
courses of any kind after the first ten years of his ministry. 
His sermons were thoroughly elaborated in the study by a 
process of mental composition which gave them the accurate 
diction and the rich consecutive thought usually attained by 
writing. And even without this previous preparation, his 
mind was so full of material, and so gifted with ready inven- 
tion, that he would gather fresh impulse and new wealth of 
imagery and illustration from the very inspiration of extempo- 
raneous speaking. To a friend, who was once deploring the 
loss of productions worthy of being preserved, he replied, that 
it cost him hardly an effort to recall any train of thought he had 
once mastered in the order of its development, and that at 
some day of leisure he purposed to put his reflections on 
several subjects into permanent shape. Unhappily the gift 
itself proved fatal to the purpose, and only encouraged his 
unconquerable aversion to the pen. 

But whether written or unwritten his discourses were always 
delivered with freedom and fire. It was not in his nature to 
speak without animation. Animation is, indeed, too cold a 
word to describe his manner. It was with the intensest energy 
of soul and body. The whole man in every faculty and organ 
was engaged. His sermon was a great battle for God and 
truth ; and he fought it with all his might till the conflict 
ended : and often the victory was won. His sermons were 
characterized by long and elaborate periods ; but they were 
constructed with exquisite euphony, and uttered with distinct 
articulation and telling emphasis. His mind, teeming with the 



IMPASSIONED DELIVERY. 



95 



grand themes of revelation — God and a risen Saviour ; life, 
death, and immortality ; heaven, hell, and a judgment to come 
— needed only the stimulus of his own deep emotions to rise 
to the very highest scores of eloquence and power. On some 
of these occasions he would retire from the pulpit like a soldier 
from the battle-field, completely exhausted and faint by the 
excessive heat of the action. There are people in Kentucky 
who are accustomed to speak of certain of his sermons, heard 
long ago, as the greatest they ever heard. In a beautiful and 
appropriate discourse at his funeral by Rev. Dr. Brank of 
Lexington", this peculiar fervor of his oratory is referred to. 
After speaking of his genius and learning, and his many noble 
excellences as a man, an educator, and a pastor, Dr. Brank " 
remarks : " His preaching was sound, able, fervent, and elo- 
quent, riveting the attention of his hearers with the beauty 
and splendor of his imagery, and thrilling their hearts with the 
tenderness and power of his appeals. His style of oratory was 
peculiar to himself, and impassioned beyond almost any thing 
I ever witnessed. His mind loved to soar, to rise above the 
common tracts of thought ; his imagery was often magnificent ; 
his soul seemed to be all on fire, and his words came burning 
from his lips as coals from a furnace. It was not merely his 
voice that spoke, but his eyes, his lips, his whole countenance ; 
his whole body seemed to be moving, trembling, palpitating in 
unison with the high thought of his mind, laboring to give it 
expression, and to urge it upon the attention of his almost 
breathless hearers. But few men in our church in the develop- 
ment of pulpit oratory have gained a wider or a more deserved 
reputation." 

We have aimed in this imperfect sketch to give at least 
some approximate conception of the life, labors, and character 
of a true man of God, whose memory is still fresh in many 
hearts, and who contributed much to the collegiate and 
theological education of our country. His praises are in 
many of our churches, and his name will long be cherished in 
many households of our land. But his sermons will probably 
be his best memorial. From the manuscripts extant, they 



96 



TESTIMONIALS. 



might have been swelled to twice or thrice the number here 
published. These, however, will be enough to recall him to 
his friends, and to give others some idea of his excellence. 
No man could hear him preach even once, or engage in con- 
versation with him — and no one can read these sermons we 
think, without seeing that he was a thinker, a scholar, and a 
worker, a man of gentlemanly bearing, of noble impulses, of 
large views, of warm charity, and loving heart. We have 
aimed not to eulogize, but to present his life and character in 
the very light in which he was seen by his friends and con- 
temporaries. The appreciative pen of one who had many op- 
portunities of hearing him, has drawn the following graphic 
portraiture of his appearance and style, as in his happiest 
moods he stood in the pulpit and poured forth his masterly 
discourses : — 

"As he spoke, his person, singularly erect and commanding, seemed in- 
stinct with life in its supremest emotion ; his eye, soft and mellow in repose, 
would kindle as he summoned his powers for some lofty effort, until it spar- 
kled and shone, and burned like a flame, now lustrous with the light of rapt 
affection, now gleaming with the glow of some grand imagination, now pier- 
cing like an eagle's as he rose to the height of some fiery denunciation of sin or 
untruthfulness. "We never saw such an eye. It was the shining through of 
the fires that burned within. In its keen and vivid flashes it announced the 
coming thought; men sat entranced beneath its fascinations, and ac- 
knowledged the supremacy of its power. The intellectual force and vivacity 
of his character sparkled on his face ; his voice rose with the demands of the 
effort; his- utterance became rapid, his gestures impassioned, yet the very 
embodiment of grace, and as his whole mien assumed the commanding pos- 
ture of an authorized ambassador of the Most High, we have rarely heard a 
man, either in the pulpit, on the stump, or at the bar, who surpassed him in 
moving eloquence, or who might lay a better claim to the rank of a master of 
the human heart. By the structure of his mind, and the delicacy of his 
physical constitution, he was necessitated, as.it were, to those internal processes 
by which the very depths of his own soul were sounded until its fearful com- 
petency for suffering as well as for enjoying was fully realized. As a result, 
he could tread those remote and mysterious paths which take their dark way 
through the profounder consciousness of the soul with a steadiness and fear- 
lessness of step rarely equalled ; and many instances might be recorded of 
happy relief afforded to doubt-pressed and storm-swept soids, by the keen 
and satisfactory analysis of their troubles in his public discourses. 



TESTIMONIALS. 



07 



" But this hasty outline would be incomplete, if mention was not made of 
his exceeding tenderness when he would come to speak of the comfortable 
things of the G-ospel to the children of the covenant. His own views of the 
unfathomable depths of God's loving heart were the most profound and 
touching that the writer has ever heard presented, and no man was more suc- 
cessful in drawing souls under the very shadow of his wing. How wonderfully 
could he speak of the peace of the Gospel ! Beautiful is the sea after a storm, 
with the rays of the sun sparkling upon its dancing waves, or the calm mild 
beams of the moon sinking into its impenetrable depths. So is the soul after 
the storm of doubt and passion has passed, settling to rest in the peace of the 
Gospel. So he was accustomed to speak. It is said that in the last year of his 
life, his preaching was more and more permeated with this tenderness, as the 
horrors of civil war broke loose upon his hitherto happy people, causing them 
to taste the bitterness of life. There never beat a tenderer heart than his ; 
and that thoughtful tenderness to-day brings tears to the eyes of many of 
his friends who will pass by the claims of his genius, to dwell with subdued 
affection upon his almost womanly tenderness. One of his most frequent 
epithets in speaking of Christ was — 'the Gentle Saviour;' and yet the fire 
and passion of his nature was such, that the lightning would gleam from his 
eye, and the thunder might be heard in his voice."* 

It will form an appropriate conclusion to our task, to present 
one additional testimonial. It is the graceful tribute of a 
young lady who met Dr. Green, for the first and last time, the 
year before his death, and here recalls the impressions, 
agreeable and lasting, made by that passing acquaintance. 
Nothing perhaps will better illustrate the character of the man, 
as he appeared even to strangers and in his unofficial and least 
guarded aspects, than this genial and graphic memorial. 

" Some months ago, it chanced that in carelessly turning the leaves of a 
borrowed volume, I discovered, with deep emotion, the unlooked-for auto- 
graph of its former owner, Lewis W. Green. This abrupt presentation of a 
name which, sacred to memory, had long been embalmed in my heart, over- 
whelmed me with proud, and now pathetically tender remembrance of my 
brief acquaintance with its possessor. 

" It was my fortune to spend the summer of 1862 at a water-cure in Cleve- 
land, Ohio ; and there, some time after my arrival. Dr. Green also repaired 
for the benefit of his health. As I was passing down the hall the day after 
he reached the Cure, I was attracted by the sound of an unfamiliar voice 
leading in the customary morning devotions of the place ; and entering the 

* From a sketch by the Eev. W. G. Craig, of Keokuk, Iowa. 
5 



98 



TESTIMONIALS. 



parlor, I heard from Dr. Green the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. 
' The Pharisee,' said the reader (in a voice "whose penetrating sweetness I 
shall never forget), ' The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself.' 1 This 
novel and strikingly suggestive accent on himself was the first Illustration I 
received of the doctor's truly characteristic power of impressing his own 
original and appreciative genius upon the most familiar subjects which he 
touched ; so that not infrequently the useless and unvalued bullion of thought 
was first prepared for service when freshly conceived by his vigorous mind, 
and stamped with its own image and superscription. A stranger in the midst 
of strangers, he unconsciously sat that morning for a portrait, which, like 
the pictures of Oimabue, was drawn on a golden ground, and though some 
of its lines have been effaced from my protecting memory by the resistless 
wear of six long years, yet the original glow by which it was surrounded still 
sheds its unfading radiance on my heart. 

" A form above the middle height, somewhat spare, but well proportioned; 
an eye as keen as an eagle's, relieved by a mouth as sweet as a child's ; a 
broad and lofty forehead, strongly developed in the regions of ideality and 
reason ; a complexion of that peculiar sallow hue, so often noticed in men 
who have ever toiled in the intellectual vineyard, the whole face combining 
with rare attractiveness, vivacity and dignity, sensibility and self-command, 
delicacy and power. Such is my recollection of Dr. G-reen as he appeared at 
that time. His carriage and gestures were distinguished by a native grace 
and dignity ; and the united charms of his manner and conversation I have 
never known surpassed. 

"Affable to all, he appeared that summer to delight especially in the society 
of intelligent and sprightly women, whom he successfully rivalled in their 
own peculiar powers of tact, graphic description, and graceful courtesy. 
The lightning of his wit attracted and electrified his audience, but it was 
lightning still, and could on needful occasions, repel the claims of pre- 
sumptuous pride, and paralyze irreverence and folly. Still it ever seemed his 
choice to conquer by persuasion. The Greeks have enriched their mythology 
by the fable of Bacchus' invasion of India. The joyous warrior, we are 
told, in common with his followers, disguised his hostile aims by wreathing 
his spear with vine leaves and concealing its barb in a cone. The moral 
of this fantastic tale Dr. Green appeared to have mastered, for none better 
understood how to adorn his weapons, and by the guise of peace to secure 
a victory. 

" One of his most amiable characteristics was the ready tact with which he 
understood and attracted the young, a power in most cases sufficiently ex- 
plained by the habits of his professional life, and the enlarged sympathies of 
a profound and liberal mind. In instances, however, which his experience 
had multiplied, and in some of which I am personally cognizant, nothing 
short of a secrejfc susceptibility of temperament (which needs only to be 



TESTIMONIALS. 



99 



known, to suggest a resemblance to Lavater's) could account for the ease with 
which he deciphered the hieroglyphics of feeling, and perused unassisted the 
past history of a life. 

' "In general society Dr. Green displayed the most versatile and attractive 
powers. His discriminating, but pointed satires made him a dangerous foe 
in a war of wit; while to the attack of others, he presented a burnished 
shield which not only dazzled the enemy by its lustre, but from its brilliant 
and polished surface turned aside all missiles ; yet in the gayest badinage, he 
was never betrayed into that meretricious brilliancy which society esteems 
and cultivates, and which is so pre-eminently superficial and untrue, that it 
may be assumed with equal ease by men of widely differing merit, as the 
bubble and the rainbow are embellished by the same colors. 

" The personal influence which he soon acquired with all whom he knew at 
the Cure, I would have deemed incredible had I not myself been a witness. 
It is a fact, however, which was then generally observed, that cards (which 
had been before his arrival the usual evening amusement) were almost 
entirely abandoned during the period of his stay. As a preacher I shall not 
venture to judge of the full scope of his powers, since the only sermons which 
I heard from him were extemporaneous efforts, delivered before the inmates of 
the house and the neighboring families. My memory, however, still vividly 
retains the impression of his fluent rhetoric, his captivating fancy, and his 
touchingly tender exhortations. If Dr. Green had been like many clergymen, 
his conversations might have thrown some further light upon his style as a 
speaker, but he judiciously disarmed the prejudice of the worldly by sim- 
ply living his religion, while he confined his preaching to the formality of 
sermons. The religion, however, with which his soul was interpenetrated 
and controlled, continually escaped from his tongue in forms more enticing 
than precepts, as unasked the exquisite perfumes arise from the heart of a 
flower. 

" Thus far I have only described him, as he must have appeared to all, and 
my heart importunes me in vain for her own individual shrovetide. The 
homage of memory, the gratitude of years, the awakened aspirations of a 
life, shall alone attest the reverent and tender affection with which he inspired 
me." 



SERMONS. 



SERMONS 



i. 

THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



Luke, xxiv. 34. — " The Lord is risen indeed." 



In the days of Augustus Caesar appeared a man of singular 
and extraordinary character. We have no description of his 
person considered certainly authentic. Yet there is one of very 
ancient date, which informs us that there was, in his whole 
countenance and manner, that amazing union of elevation and 
meekness, of gentleness and dignity, which characterizes all his 
recorded acts, which painters have, in vain, attempted to 
transfer to canvas, and for which neither history nor fiction 
has ever found or formed a parallel. 

Born a Jew, he surmounted all the narrow prejudices of his 
age and nation, and looking abroad, over the face of human 
society, with a large and liberal survey, took the whole world 
as his theatre of action,, and all of human kind as his brethren. 
An unlettered peasant, he despised at once the traditions of 
the elders, the learning of the rabbins, the subtlety of the 
lawyers, and the authority of the priests; and resolved to 
reform and revolutionize the whole moral and religious system 
of his people. Trained in no school of philosophy, yet did he 
teach a purer and more perfect morality, a more exalted and 
spiritual religion than could be collected from all the volumes 
of all the heathen philosophers together. Sprung from an 
obscure but reputable family, he claimed to be of the royal 



104 



THE RESURRECTION" OF CHRIST. 



lineage of David, to be the Messiah of the Jews, the King and 
Saviour of Israel. Yet when the people welcomed him with 
enthusiastic acclamations and offered him a crown, he spurned 
it contemptuously away, and said, the kingdom he had come 
to establish was not of this world, but a kingdom of peace 
and holiness and truth. 

The period of the world at which he appeared was one of 
momentous interest. It formed an era in the history of our 
race. It was the transition state of human society from its 
ancient to its new and better form. The intellect of man had 
done its utmost. Philosophy had long since degenerated into 
scepticism. And centuries of proud reasoning had terminated 
in universal doubt. The cheering belief in the immortality of 
the soul, in the existence of one supreme, presiding Deity, in 
the reality of moral distinctions and moral obligations, had 
passed away from the creed of the cultivated classes, and was 
fast losing its hold upon the popular mind. And society, 
without any fixed principles or authoritative guide, might well 
be compared to some stately vessel broken loose from her 
moorings, and cast out in a dark night on a tempestuous ocean, 
without a pilot to direct her course, or one twinkling star to 
guide her wanderings. Amidst the darkness and universal 
gloom, passion seized the helm, and all man's present happi- 
ness and virtue were wrecked, along with all his future hoj^es. 
Political freedom was lost amidst the universal crash, and the 
Roman emperors, sensual, beastly, cruel, vindictive, tyrannical, 
were only incarnations (embodied representations) of the spirit 
of their age — of that degraded and brutal spirit which, amidst 
the turmoil of the times, threw the basest of human beings to 
the helm of human affairs. The annals of the world contained 
no parallel to the enormities which are recorded by the Jewish 
and Roman historians of this and the succeeding age. 

Such was the condition of the world when, in a distant 
province of the Roman Empire, in an obscure corner of his 
native land, this bold and original adventurer conceived and 
avowed the stupendous design — stupendous in its nature, its 
extent, its results — of revolutionizing the whole moral, reli- 



THE RESURRECTION OP CHRIST. 



105 



gious, and social condition of the habitable globe, of casting 
down into the dust its magnificent temples and venerated 
idols, of overturning its consecrated, time-honored institutions, 
and, on the ruins of all that was old, erecting a new dominion 
of his own, whose extent should be bounded only by the limits 
of the earth, and its duration measured out by the long lapse 
of her revolving centuries. But if the conception was vast, 
what shall we say of the accomplishment? All human preju- 
dices were arrayed against him, all earthly power was exerted 
to oppose his progress. The Jew and the Gentile, the priest, 
the magistrate, and the people, the emperor, the philosopher, 
and the fanatic — with learning, eloquence, and argument — the 
tongue, the pen, and the sword, all were engaged in the war 
of extermination waged against his system. He fell himself a 
victim to the power and malice of his foes, yet did his religion 
survive. It advanced with amazing rapidity from the province 
of his birth to #he city of his death, was diffused over the civ- 
ilized world, planted itself in the Imperial city, entered the 
palace and the senate chamber, and soon mounted the throne. 
And now, after the lapse of eighteen hundred years, the systems 
of philosophers have passed away and are forgotten. Jerusa- 
lem and her magnificent temple are buried in the dust. Rome, 
the Eternal city, she that was called the almighty, the Goth, 
the Yandal, and Hun have long since trampled under foot. 
Yet does the faith of the despised peasant of Judea live in the 
memories and affections of millions of his followers. 

Yes, amidst the lapse of ages, the decay of systems, the sack 
of cities, and the wreck of empires, does she still survive. No 
decay is stamped upon her front, no dimness beclouds her eye ; 
but there she stands, strong in the vigor of an immortal youth, 
and her brow is trimmed with the laurels she has won in the 
many battles of the many generations that are past. She 
stands, the religion of every civilized nation under heaven, and 
numbering among her advocates the mightiest names that 
adorn the annals of our race, that have shed a lustre upon lit- 
erature and science, upon arts and upon arms — a Newton, 
a Bacon, a Locke, an Addison, a Boyle, and last, though 
5* 



106 



THE RESURRECTION OE CHRIST. 



not least, the soldier, the patriot, the statesman, the admira- 
tion of all nations and the father of his own, the immortal 
Washington. 

But if the events of his life were wonderful, still more 
astonishing were the circumstances that attended, that pre- 
ceded and followed his death. And we propose to present 
this day before yon a portion of that evidence, which leads us 
to believe that the faith of eighteen centuries is not founded on 
a fable ; but that the "Lord is risen indeed." And, surely, if 
there be in all history a single page, which for its singularity 
and importance deserves the serious and scrutinizing investi- 
gation of every reflecting man, it is that which records the 
strange event that formed the turning point in the faith of 
nations, and still continues to influence so extensively the 
whole moral, social, and civil condition and destiny of our 
race. 

We remark, 1st. That he foretold his own death, the time, 
place, circumstances, and results ; and promised his disciples 
that he would rise again, and thus vindicate his claims as a 
teacher sent from God. 

So numerous and so various are these predictions, that the 
onlv difficulty lies in selecting from, them all such as shall 
appear most striking. They were delivered in public and in 
private, before friends and foes, at distant intervals of time, 
and under every variety of circumstances. Xow they are sug- 
gested by a hint or an allusion, now casually introduced into 
conversation upon some other subject, now formally stated and 
explained for the instruction of his disciples. As he stood in 
the temple, and the Jews asked for a sign, he said. £; Destroy 
this temple, and in three days I will raise it up again ; n and 
ao-ain, "Xo sign shall be given to this generation but the sign 
of Jonas, the prophet, for as Jonas was three days and nights 
in the whale's bellv, so shall the Sun of man be three days and 
nights in the bowels of the earth." (John. ii. 19 ; Matt. xii. 40.) 
Ao-ain, descending: from the mount of transfiguration, "lie 
charged his disciples to tell no man what they had seen till the 
Son of man was risen from the dead." Again (Matt; xvi. 21), it 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



10V 



is said, " From this time forth began Jesus " — clearly indicating 
something habitual — "to show unto his disciples how that he 
must go up to Jerusalem and suffer many things of the chief 
priests and scribes and be killed, and be raised again the third 
dayP In Luke, xiii. 33, he says distinctly, that he would die at 
Jerusalem, " for it is impossible that a prophet perish out of 
Jerusalem." Still more minutely do we find all the prominent 
circumstances of his death predicted in Matt. xx. 17-19 : " And 
Jesus going up to Jerusalem took his disciples apart, and said 
unto them, Behold, we go up to Jerusalem ; and the Son of 
man shall be betrayed unto the chief priests and unto the 
scribes, and they shall condemn him to death, and shall 
deliver him to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to 
crucify him : and the third day he shall rise again." 

Observe how many circumstances are here minutely specified: 
1st, That he should not be seized openly, as he taught in the 
temple, but should be betrayed ; 2d, Not to the Romans, who 
were to condemn and execute him, but to the priests and 
scribes ; 3d, He was to be delivered to the Gentiles, and not 
stoned by the Jews, as their law required in every case of blas- 
phemy ; 4th, To be mocked and scourged ; 5th, To be crucified, 
contrary to all the Jewish customs ; - and 6th, To be con- 
demned by the Jews, though executed by the Gentiles ; they 
were to try and condemn him first for blasphemy, and then 
prosecute him on a charge of treason and sedition before the 
Roman governor. 

Now it was natural to expect that death would terminate 
his career, and that the doctrines of this crucified malefactor 
would soon become extinct. Such was the hope of his enemies, 
and such the fear of his former friends. But the eye before 
which all time lies equally revealed, beheld, in the distant 
future, a far different prospect. He predicted that the very 
means employed for 'his disgrace and ruin, would only redound 
to his glory, and multiply incalculably, through all ages, the 
number of his followers. Just before his death he exclaimed, 
"The hour is come that the Son of man should be glorified;' 1 
and again, "And I, if I be lifted up [on the cross], will draw 



108 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



all men unto me ; " " Verily I say unto you, except a grain of 
wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it 
die, it bringeth forth much fruit ;" thus, by a beautiful analogy, 
pointing forward to that glorious harvest which should spring 
up from his grave and bring forth fruit unto eternal life. 

But it is useless to multiply quotations. Those who have 
even only a general and superficial acquaintance with the New 
Testament, cannot fail to remember that his own death and 
resurrection were not only the subject of frequent conversation, 
from the commencement to the close of his ministry, but that 
they were openly avowed by him as the very end and object 
of his existence — the great purpose for which he came into the 
world. He was introduced by John the Baptist at first as 
" the Lamb of God that taketh [or beareth] away the sin of 
the world ;" and the last hours of his intercourse with his 
disciples were spent in celebrating a most affecting memorial 
of his approaching death and sufferings, in which he represents 
his "blood as shed for the remission of sins." The prophet 
Isaiah had long before predicted of the Messiah that he should 
be " brought as a lamb to the slaughter," that be should bear 
our sins, be wounded for our iniquities, and bruised for onr 
transgressions. To this the Baptist referred when he pointed 
to the Saviour and said, "Behold the Lamb of God that beareth 
the sins of the world." And to this the Saviour undoubtedly 
alludes in the solemn language of the final supper. Indeed, 
his own death forms an essential and inseparable part of his 
religious systeim It is not only interwoven with the other 
doctrines of that system, but it is the foundation of them all. 
It is the very substance and essence of his whole doctrine — 
the grand peculiarity which distinguishes it from every other. 
Without the propitiatory death, and sufferings, and resurrec- 
tion of the Saviour, in what would Christianity differ from any 
other enlightened system of morality ? If, then, this extraor- 
dinary person had any plan at all, his own death and resurrec- 
tion formed an essential part— nay, were the very centre and 
substance of that plan. 

Now this is the' point of our argument. "We humbly conceive 



THE RESURRECTION OP CHRIST. 



109 



that this fact is altogether inexplicable on any possible theory 
of the Saviour's character, except the Christian theory. We 
care not what hypothesis you adopt — whether you consider 
him an ardent enthusiast who really believed himself divinely 
commissioned from on high ; or an artful impostor, endeavoring 
to delude others for his aggrandizement; or a wise and benev- 
olent man, elevated above the prejudices of his Jewish faith, 
yet conforming to them all as for the benefit of* others, prac- 
tising a species of pious fraud on the community, whose welfare 
he sincerely desired to promote. On either hypothesis the facts 
are equally inexplicable. Now we do not feel disposed to deny 
or conceal the fact, that there was much in the circumstances 
and the spirit of the times well calculated to excite the imagi- 
nation and stimulate the passions of an ardent enthusiast. 
We learn from various sources, from Joseph us and Tacitus and 
Suetonius, that there existed then, and from Virgil and Cicero 
that there existed some time before, a universal expectation of 
some mighty prince, who, issuing from Syria or Judea, was to 
subdue the world. Such a conqueror the Jew expected to 
behold in the person of the long-looked-for and predicted 
Messiah; and accordingly of the many enthusiasts or impostors 
who assumed that character in the latter days of the Jewish 
commonwealth, we are informed by Josephus that there was 
not one who did not deceive himself, or attempt to impose on 
others, with the vain promise of divine interposition, for the 
purpose of temporal deliverance and worldly glory for his 
chosen people. Under such enthusiasts the Jews were ever 
ready to enlist by hundreds and, thousands to fight the battles 
of. the Lord. And so strong was their confidence in the 
expected deliverance for Israel, that even in Jerusalem's last 
extremity they followed one of these enthusiasts, who promised 
them deliverance in the temple, and six thousand perished 
miserably in the flames that consumed it. 

Now, if Christ had been such an enthusiast, he must have 
partaken of the spirit of the age ; he would have dreamed of 
victory and g'lory, of temporal deliverance for Israel, of a wide, 
extended dominion over the heathen. To break the Roman 



110 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



yoke from off the neck of the nations, and bear the lion of the 
tribe of Judah aloft over the Roman eagle, would have been 
an enterprise congenial with such a temper. But surely, of all 
conceivable events, an ignominious and painful death for him- 
self, the cowardly flight and cruel sufferings of his disciples, 
would have had fewer attractions for such an imagination. 
That would be indeed a strange enthusiasm which, during a 
whole life-time, could regale itself most enthusiastically with 
the delicious anticipation of torture and disgrace, which should 
make this the object of all its efforts, the consummation of all 
its desires. 

But perhaps he was an impostor ? Neither will this hypothe- 
sis agree with the acknowledged facts of the case. An impostor 
endeavors to impose a falsehood upon others for the purpose 
of promoting some selfish object of his own. Now, was it ever 
known, is it even conceivable, that any man should coolly and 
deliberately devise a system of which his own death — violent, 
excruciating, disgraceful — was to be the prominent part, the 
very centre and consummation of the whole ? We say that in 
all his labors and exertions there must be some object. But 
did any man ever employ his whole life in deliberately devising 
his own death and disgrace ? Again, whatever was his scheme, 
he must have wished it to succeed, and could never volunta- 
rily have placed its success upon an issue which he must have 
known would unmask his imposture, expose and explode the 
whole. For the sake of illustration, suppose there were some 
strange impostor here, endeavoring to palm some new system 
on our belief, and we should propose to him, deliberately to 
suffer death, and then promise, that if he would rise again we 
would embrace his system. Yfhat impostor would accept such 
a proposition ? Yet this is the very proposition which the 
Saviour again and again presented to the Jews. If, then, he 
was an impostor, he deliberately and voluntarily did that 
which must necessarily unmask his imposture and prevent his 
success forever. That is, he was an impostor, who, after all, 
did not desire to impose. 

But was he an amiable, and benevolent man, wielding the 



THE RESURRECTION OP CHRIST. 



Ill 



prejudices of his countrymen for their own improvement, 
and promoting virtue by a pious fraud ? Now we pause not 
to show how utterly inconsistent this supposition is with our 
Saviour's whole character, with the high and solemn earnest- 
ness of his whole nature. It is by far the most plausible of the 
three opinions, and that usually adopted now by enlightened 
and philosophic unbelievers. Yet we must be permitted to 
say, it involves a moral impossibility. It is not impossible 
that such a man should die a martyr to his opinions, and thus 
leave behind the strongest testimony of the sincerity witli 
which he held them; but it is impossible that he should ex- 
pose all his pretensions to a test which, from its very nature, 
must inevitably eventuate in his own disgrace, and involve his 
doctrine and his followers in universal contempt. He must 
have known that he could not rise. Now observe, if he did 
not, all was lost. Whatever might have been his purpose, it 
foiled, certainly, necessarily, hopelessly, forever. All the labors 
and sufferings of his whole life had been in vain ; all the good 
he had already done was lost ; all he hoped to do was resigned 
— nay, voluntarily thrown away on an experiment, which he 
must have known would fail ; and all this without a motive — 
causelessly, senselessly, madly. Why did he not die as did 
the great and holy men that had gone before him, a martyr 
to his principles, and leave his bright example a glorious legacy 
to coming generations ? 

If, then, his scheme was not purposely suicidal, if it was no 
part of his design to thwart his own designs, prosecuted sedu- 
lously through his whole life, he could never have proposed a 
test of the truth of his pretensions which must eventuate in 
their complete and disgraceful overthrow. There remains but 
one possible opinion, that he really believed his own predic- 
tions, and met death voluntarily in the confident expectation 
that he would rise again ; and if he really believed this, his 
belief must have been founded on the inward consciousness of 
his own high power to lay down his life and to take it again. 
Now the minds of men are so differently constituted that we 
cannot determine how this species of evidence may appear to 



I]2 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



most of you ; but to my own mind it comes with a force of 
probability amounting almost to a moral demonstration. 

2d. He really was crucified and buried, and on the third day 
his body was missing. These are the admitted facts — admit- 
ted by Jew and Gentile. That his body had disappeared from 
the sepulchre is evident, from the fact that it was not produced 
by the high priests, when, soon after his death, they were 
charged with his murder, and his resurrection was boldly 
proclaimed by St. Peter. 

Now, but two suppositions are possible. (We must draw 
our own conclusions from the facts.) He either rose again by 
his own power, or his disciples stole him away, and knowingly 
palmed a falsehood on the world. Against this latter supposi- 
tion of the infidel much may be urged which appears like solid 
and convincing argument. Consider the character of the disci- 
ples, and the circumstances of the case. It was the feast of the 
Passover, and the thousands and ten thousands and hundred 
thousands of the Jewish people (for Josephus informs us that at 
the feast which preceded the fall of Jerusalem two millions 
were collected there) were gathered, not only from every cor- 
ner of Judea, but from every portion of the habitable globe. 
They had brought with them, as an offering to the Lord, their 
cattle, their sheep, their goats. The city would not contain 
them all, and with their families and flocks they were en- 
camped in the suburbs of the city, in the numerous fields, 
gardens, and vineyards that lay around. It was the full moon, 
and in the clear atmosphere of an eastern climate, all was as 
distinctly visible as by the light of day. The sepulchre was 
situated in one of those gardens that lay under the walls of 
the city ; and around it were spread out the tents of the pil- 
grims that had come up thither to worship in the holy city. 
It was sealed with the broad seal of the Roman government. 
It was guarded by the bold and watchful soldiers of a Roman 
cohort. For the priests had gone to Pilate and said, " Sir, we 
remember that this deceiver said, while he was yet alive, After 
three days I will rise again." (Matt, xxvii. 63.) 

Thus carefully was the sepulchre secured. That seal it was 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



113 



treason to break. To slumber on his watch was death to the 
Roman soldier. There lay the dead impostor, cold in his sep- 
ulchre of stone. It was a bold and dangerous attempt to pass, 
at dead of night, amidst all those crowded tents, evade the 
vigilance of a Roman guard, and steal away the body espe- 
cially committed to their care. Who should roll away the 
stone ? Of sixty soldiers trained to endure all the hardships 
of war, and accustomed to all the severity of Roman disci- 
pline, it was scarcely possible that all should sleep at once. 
But if all were asleep, how lightly does the soldier slumber at 
his post, leaning on the top of his spear? How readily does 
he start at the slightest sound — the bark of a dog from a 
neighboring tent, the sound of a sheep bell, the lowing of a 
cow, the rustling of a leaf, the crackling of a stick beneath 
the cautious and stealthy tread of the nocturnal adventurer ? 
Nay, the sighing of the wind, as it passeth over the neighbor- 
ing mountains, and among the vines around, might wake that 
soldier from his stolen repose. And then detection was una- 
voidable, and on detection death was certain. Now, who are 
those bold and daring men, skilled in all the stratagems of 
war, trained to endure its hardships and brave all its dangers, 
who shall, under the broad moonlight, thread those crowded 
tents, elude the vigilance of sixty Roman soldiers, and steal 
away the very object they had been sent to guard ? A few poor 
fishermen. It was but two days ago, and they all fled at the 
very sight of danger ; and the boldest among them, with curs- 
ing and swearing, denied that he had ever known this man. 
Dispirited, chagrined, hopeless, at the death of their leader, 
would they have dared to attempt so dangerous an enter- 
prise? And if they had attempted it, where was the pros- 
pect of success ? The supposition is in the highest degree 
improbable. 

But this improbability rises into impossibility on one side, 
and moral certainty on the other, when we consider, First. 
They had no inducement falsely to assert the resurrection of 
the Saviour, but every inducement to the contrary. No in- 
ducement I If any, what ? You say, " a thousand deceptions 



114 



THE RESURRECTION OE CHRIST. 



and impositions daily occur, and so, probably, it was in this 
case." We have often wondered that men can go to the verge 
of truth and yet not see it. Men who can pass from individual' 
facts to the principles on which they depend do not see that 
this is only confirmation of our argument. 

We care not whether you take it up historically or philo- 
sophically ; dive into the bosom of man, or read the record of 
his acts. It is equally apparent, that amidst all these various 
deceptions there is one principle at the bottom : that in every 
case recorded in history, or conceivable by man's mind, decep- 
tion has originated in some selfish motive, — pride, hatred, 
interest of some sort. So that expatiate as you please over 
the whole field of human deception, we accompany you with 
pleasure, knowing well, that as you accumulate fresh instances 
of human depravity you only add strength to our argument ; 
and each excursion brings back new materials to build up the 
bulwarks of our faith, fresh illustrations of the truth — that 
human acts are guided by human motives ; and in the whole cat- 
alogue of crimes none can be found without motive, in the grat- 
ification of some known desire, passion, or propensity of man. 

We challenge any one to say what motive was possible in 
this case. Mr. Hume endeavors to evade argument. How ? By 
saying, " We are not bound to account for every act of every 
devotee." Granted. But we do not ask you to enter the 
mind and say which of various possible motives may have 
prompted certain acts, but only to show that, of all these mo- 
tives, some may possibly have operated — that deception was 
not impossible in this case according to the known laws of 
human action. We say it was. And we return to our ques- 
tion : What motive had they to deceive ? Wealth, honor, 
ease — all these were jeoparded; nay, certainly lost; and it is 
no dogmatism to say, that where poverty, disgrace, persecu- 
tion, were certain consequences, the opposite advantages could 
not be the motive of action. 

This leads us to observe, that not only was there a want of 
motive, but, secondly, every motive was in the opposite direc- 
tion. If Christ rose not, he was not the Messiah, but an im- 



! 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



115 



postor, who, grossly, shamefully, deliberately imposed on them 
and involved them in his own disgrace and persecution. Hope 
deferred maketh the heart sick ; but hope mocked, confidence 
betrayed, turns into -bitterest hatred. And as they thought 
of their blighted hopes, could they laud their deceiver ? Nay, 
risk life, and all life holds dear, to advance his glory ? Trans- 
port yourself for a moment to that age and country, become a 
Jew in hope and in feeling, and tell me whether you could 
have lauded and loved a Messiah who had thus deceived you 
and blasted all your hopes of glory ? 

Hence the disciples were really slow to believe, cautious to 
examine. One had to thrust his hand into His hands and side. 
Again. It was to lose all things with the remotest prospect 
of any gain. Throw yourself into their position. A few indi- 
viduals, ignorant, unknown, without wealth or connections, 
or eloquence or power — helpless as children, they had hung 
upon their leader; timid as women, they had fled at the first 
approach of danger ; and they were now surrounded by priests 
flushed with victory, and their appetites whetted by the taste 
of blood, whose malignity slew their leader, and was ready to 
devour them also. If they had formed a combination to de- 
ceive, the very soul and life of the conspiracy was gone. If 
deceived themselves before, the delusion had vanished at his 
death. Whatever might have been their scheme, that which 
was dangerous before had now become desperate. The work 
of destruction once begun would certainly go on. They who 
cursed and crucified the living and wonder-working prophet, 
would scarcely worship the crucified malefactor. The exalta- 
tion which the Jew expected for his Messiah was to a throne 
of princely dominion, not to a cross between two thieves. To 
those who know the inveteracy of early prejudices, the bitter- 
ness of religious fanaticism, the desolating fury of that fiery 
zeal which thinks to do God service by slaughtering his crea- 
tures, it is scarcely necessary to remark, that defenceless 
followers of a crucified leader could hope for safety only in 
retirement and silence ; and to renew his claims was to brave 
persecution and death in their most horrid forms. 



116 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



But perhaps they expected a better reception by the world. 
No. Their prophetic master had foretold distinctly the extent 
and kind of their sufferings. Yet with these consequences full 
before them, the very men who had abandoned him in dismay 
when alive dared all danger in attestation of his resurrection. 
The fury of the mob, the power and malice of the priests, were 
unheeded, and they went forth proclaiming him " Lord of Life 
and Glory " in the streets, in the temple, before the Sanhe- 
drim. They were beaten, and thanked God for the honor. 
When imprisoned, the jail resounded with their songs of exul- 
tation and praise. And at last a life of ignominy, suffering, 
danger, incessant toil, was terminated by a death whose hor- 
ror Ave shudder to recite. But they rejoiced to endure in tes- 
timony of their fidelity to Him, the despised and crucified, the 
risen and exalted one. 

Ah ! some strange influence must have issued from that 
grave thus to give vigor to the nerveless, and manly courage 
to the timid, and cause him, who just before trembled at a 
woman's voice, and with cursing and swearing denied his Lord, 
now boldly to teach in the temple, and fearlessly denounce the 
high priests in their own Sanhedrim. Now what was to be 
gained, let "me ask, by such a procedure ? Much, if stripes and 
imprisonment and persecution and universal hatred and deri- 
sion be indeed a gain. And what was to be lost ? Nothing, 
if property and character and life be of no value. But if they 
suffered much from the bigotry of their own countrymen, they 
endured still more from the fierce intolerance of the heathen. 
Christ foretold this, St. Paul said, " In every city persecution 
and bonds await me." And the Acts of the Apostles is but 
the record of the labors and sufferings of the Apostles. But 
we need not refer to Christian histories ; enough is related by 
heathen writers. We are informed by Tacitus that thirty 
years after the death of Christ, a vast multitude of Christians 
were in Borne, and suffered persecution. And the philosophic 
historian remarks, that, though Nero's charge was false, they 
were "a pernicious superstition, and deserved. the severest 
punishment." Pliny and Trajan, the most amiable of philoso- 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



117 



pliers and best of emperors, agreed that the Christians ought 
to be punished, at any rate, for their obstinacy in adhering to 
their faith. What, then, had they to expect from the malice 
of interested priests and a fanatical populace? Ten persecu- 
tions by imperial authority, bloody and desolating, followed, 
while the hatred of the heathen populace was perpetual and 
universal. Suetonius, Juvenal, Martial, all confirm the same. 

Since such was the spirit of Jew and Gentile, and such the 
sufferings they endured voluntarily, we may surely say, that 
in attesting the resurrection of Christ they lost all earthly 
good, without the slightest prospect or possibility of earthly 
gain. Now we make bold to say, that it is not only in the 
highest degree improbable, but absolutely impossible, that 
men should thus expose themselves to the certainty of utter 
ruin, in support of a known falsehood, which they, after all, 
have no interest to support. It supposes the utter subversion 
of all the principles of our nature. It is not only impossible, 
but self-contradictory to assert, that any human being would 
thus act, not only without any motive, but against all motives. 
This would be conclusive from the case of one person. But 
the argument acquires (if possible) additional cumulative 
strength, when we remember the numbers engaged in this 
supposed conspiracy to deceive the world — twelve, one hun- 
dred and twenty, five hundred ; many of whom, if not all, 
must have known the deception ; and any one of whom, at 
any time, might have gained, not mere exemption, but rich 
rewards, by exposing the fraud. Yet no bribery could ever 
buy the secret, no skill detect it, no torture wring it out. And 
though many were thus forced to renounce the Saviour, none 
ever dreamed of exposing what did not exist to be exposed. 

It is easy to conceive the value which would be attached by 
Jewish or heathen priests to a secret which would crush at 
once this new and growing sect. Even supposing a combina- 
tion to have been formed with the vain hope of personal 
advantage, it must have soon appeared how hopeless was the 
enterprise, and the bond of mutual interest which bound them 
being broken, they who began with deceiving the world would 



118 



THE RESURRECTION OP CHRIST. 



certainly have ended with betraying one another. The argu- 
ment then is cumulative. " Honor among robbers," may be 
alleged in reply. But this confirms our argument. It is only 
a sense of common interest. And thus, if you look on society 
on every side, the highest and lowest, you will find but two 
levers which move all things — interest and moral sense. But 
every principle of self interest was against the Apostles' course. 
They must then have been guided by moral principle. Here, 
then, we plant ourselves, and think our position impregnable, 
and say, that without an utter and inconceivable subversion 
of all the principles of human belief in ourselves, and of human 
conduct in others, it is impossible to doubt the sincerity and 
truth of their testimony to the resurrection of Christ. 



I, 



II. 

THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



Psalm liii. 1. — "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." 



In nothing does the difference more strikingly appear 
between the truth of God and the opinions of men, than in 
the comparative estimate which they make of the wisdom and 
folly of human character and conduct. He is the wise man, 
according to the maxims of this world's philosophy, who saga- 
ciously devises and vigorously executes some scheme of secular 
aggrandizement— who, whether he aims at distinction or at 
wealth, coolly and comprehensively surveys the various causes 
which may promote or thwart his interests, and, neglecting all 
secondary objects, skilfully employs his own resources and dex- 
terously guides the feelings and passions of men around him, to 
promote the one great object of his wishes and his efforts. And 
it is easy to perceive, when such an individual mingles in the 
common crowd of his fellow-citizens, from the respectful def- 
erence with which his opinion is always asked, and the close 
attention with which, like the response of an oracle, the reply 
is listened to, that he has closely marked the course of trade, 
or diligently studied the passions of men, or has successfully 
applied his observations to the extension of his fortune or his 
fame. 

Or perhaps his mind has moved in a wider circle and com- 
prehended larger interests. The sagacity which might have 
advanced his personal wealth or ambition, may be employed 
about the interests of his neighborhood, or, taking a still wider 
range, may embrace, in its capacious grasp, the interests of a 
state or an empire. He may have read all history and studied 



120 



THE SIN AND POLLY OF ATHEISM. 



all philosophy. He may be deeply versed in the science of gov- 
ernment and hnman nature, and be intimately acquainted with 
the present, relations and conflicting interests of the most dis- 
tant countries. He may bring light from the past to shine upon 
the present and illumine the future, and in the darkest hours of 
a nation's peril this pilot of the state may guide the vessel 
safely through a stormy sea, till she reaches the destined port 
and swings securely from her moorings. And it is in just such 
a case as this, when the greatest of earthly efforts has accom- 
plished the greatest of earthly objects, and obtained the great- 
est of earthly rewards, that the difference most manifestly 
appears between the wisdom of this world and that which 
cometh from above. The name of a successful statesman is 
upon every tongue, and the praise of his wisdom is proclaimed 
by every voice ; and as he is charioted along in splendor, the 
opening crowd joyfully greet his approach, and man presses 
close upon his neighbor, that he may hear the accents of his 
lips, or exhibit some testimony of his cordial admiration. 

And yet, in the midst of all this admiration from man, there 
may be that in the character and conduct of this universal 
favorite which stamps upon him, in the eye of God, marks of 
the most egregious folly. And, even as he would look with 
contemptuous disapprobation upon the contracted views of 
some simple peasant, whose thoughts all centring on the pres- 
ent moment and the present spot, never look onward to the 
future interests of a wide-spread nation, thus may He, who 
sitteth in presiding dignity over all worlds and comprehendeth 
eternity at a glance, laugh to scorn the imaginary wisdom of 
the man whose mind never ventured away from earth to hold 
communion with heaven, whose views are limited to a few 
short years' of a fleeting and uncertain pilgrimage, who neg- 
lects his best and highest interests for the sake of a temporary 
gratification, who is wise for time but not for eternity. Of 
such a man, however exalted in station, however ennobled by 
birth, however adorned with learning, the Bible says he is a 
fool. The fool, then, who is spoken of in the text, is not the 
man who reasons feebly and acts injudiciously in the common 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



121 



affairs of life, but he who neglects the one thing needful, who 
has not the beginning of wisdom, which is the fear of the 
Lord. Of such it is said — of every sinner it is said — that he 
hath said in his heart, There is no God. 

I can see neither necessity nor propriety for the criticism 
which would change the translation and make it read, The 
fool hath said in his heart [I wish] no God. To say in the 
heart, to believe with the heart, to love with the heart, indi- 
cate the reality of the internal feeling in opposition to the 
external profession. The doctrine seems then to be simply 
this : the sinner — the fool — every sinner, whatever may be his 
verbal profession does, in reality, say in his heart, does in his 
soul cherish the belief, the hope, that there is no God. And 
it is this hope, this secret, almost unconscious impression, 
which emboldens him in sin. And this is the doctrine that 
we shall endeavor to confirm, to illustrate, to enforce, and to 
apply to-day. 

There are some who say not only in thought, but in their 
words, There is no God. There are some who can open their 
eyes upon this fair and beautiful world which God has made, 
can enjoy the rich blessings of his hand, and even riot upon 
his bounties; can look abroad with admiring gaze upon the 
vastness and magnificence of this great creation, beholding 
everywhere the traces of boundless wisdom and benevolence ; 
and yet can turn away from this grand and glorious exhibition 
with their heart untouched and their mind unexpanded, and 
say, with fearless hardihood, There is no God. They see every- 
where innumerable traces of design, but deny the existence of 
a designer. All nature teems with life and happiness and joy, 
yet they deny the existence of a living cause of all this happi- 
ness. All without is beauty to the eye, and music to the ear ; 
and all within is admirably adapted to receive delight from 
external nature. It is but to look and all is loveliness ; it is 
but to listen, and all is melody. He enters upon a world which 
is already fitted up like a great mansion to receive an expected 
guest, who is likewise exquisitely adapted to occupy the man- 
sion prepared for his residen.ee. The air which surrounds him 

G 



122 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



is just fitted to expand his lungs and to communicate the prin- 
ciple of life and heat to his flowing blood. The earth on which 
he treads is just suited to produce food, which his system is 
just suited to digest and to carry through the intricate machi- 
nery of tubes and canals to every part of the body, giving 
flesh to the muscles, hardness to the bones, sensibility to the 
nerves, and incessant, never-sleeping energy to the beating 
heart. Yet he denies the existence of a power which could 
create this mysterious dwelling-place, and so harmoniously 
adapt, in every part, the living inhabitant to his earthly habi- 
tation. There are those whom God has richly endowed with 
the gifts of nature and the advantages of fortune, who employ 
the high capacities of their nature against the author of these 
blessings, who reason shrewdly and argue gravely to prove 
there is no God ; who think, by the ingenious array of logical 
syllogisms, to overthrow the government of the eternal God, 
and, by a pointed sarcasm or an ingenious witticism, hope to 
cast the thunderer from his throne. But he that sitteth in the 
heavens laugheth them to scorn ; the Almighty holdeth them 
in perfect derision. 

Now, we are accustomed to look on the atheist as a monster 
of iniquity, and few of us can feel the slightest sympathy with 
one who openly denies and contemns the existence and attri- 
butes of God. But it is one of the strangest marvels of the 
human heart, which is a world of iniquity at best, that the 
very sins which we shudder to name we do not hesitate to 
commit, the very thoughts and feelings which we would not 
for the world avow, even to ourselves, we secretly cherish and 
openly manifest in our daily conduct. And thus it is that 
while there are very few avowed atheists in the world, there 
are many real ones ; w r hile there are few in word there are 
many in deed. And the doctrine of our text, if we do not 
altogether mistake the meaning, is, that a real, deep-seated, 
practical atheism is at the bottom of all the wickedness of 
men. Upon the authority of God's word, and the authority 
of every man's conscience, we make the charge this day against 
each sinner, that he is, for every purpose of a real and practi- 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



123 



cal belief, an atheist before God ; and we pray you to consider 
how fearful is your condition if, instead of being almost Chris- 
tians, as some of you may hope yon are, you shall be found to 
be far from God and hope, and in nothing practically different 
from the atheist you abhor — if you shall be found, after all 
your self-gratulation and all your complacency, to be so far 
from true religion that you have not received, in honest sin- 
cerity, the very first elements of religious belief. As for you 
who plume yourselves upon the purity and elevation of a philo- 
sophical deism, while you avowedly reject the revelation of 
the Bible, what is your condition, if it shall be true of you as 
well as others, that with- all your high pretensions to a pure 
theology, there is in reality and truth no fear of God before 
your eyes, no belief of God in your hearts, no service of God 
in your lives. Is there any value in words without ideas, 
in professions without practice, in opinions which have no 
influence upon conduct ? 

That we may establish the doctrine of the text, and bring 
home upon every conscience the conviction of its truth, we 
only ask that Ave may be permitted to reason on this as on 
every other subject, from the known laws of human belief, 
and the observed phenomena of human conduct. Appealing 
fearlessly to every individual present for the truth of our 
assertion, we say that the general course of human conduct 
and the general current of human feeling are much the same 
as if there were no creator of the universe, or none who cared 
for the affairs of men. It is a proposition too plain to be 
doubted, almost too obvious to be advanced in argument, and 
yet too often forgotten in our reflections, that all the conduct 
of rational beings is influenced necessarily by their real opin- 
ions. You cannot introduce a new truth into the mind without 
affecting the feelings or influencing the conduct. Let us take 
an instance which is not our own, and where we can exercise 
our unbiassed judgment. It was'a doctrine of the Epicureans 
that the gods existed, but that they dwelt apart, in great indo- 
lence, regardless of the interests of this lower world. Now, 
suppose that a new idea could be added to their views of truth, 



124 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



and that instead of a god afar off, reposing in motionless disu- 
nity, there had been brought before their view a god of love, 
of mercy, of active benevolence, ever active and deeply inter- 
ested in the affairs of men. Is it possible that these new ideas 
should really be received and adopted by the mind of any man 
without at all affecting his feelings or his conduct ? 

Suppose there was* a world of intelligent and active beings, 
like ourselves, professing the same social feelings, the same 
ardent passions, the same mutual interests, the same mental 
and physical organization, as ourselves, with no knowledge of 
a God. We can readily conceive, that there would exist 
among them, the same pursuits, the same affections, the same 
play of social s} 7 mpathies, the same gentle and the same terri- 
ble emotions — hatred would burn as fiercely, love would glow 
as warmly, and the whole machinery of human society would 
move onward as it does with us, upheld by the play of the 
natural principles implanted within us to counteract and regu- 
late each other. Law would punish crime and public interests 
would form a public Opinion to control the intercourse of life. 
The more and less amiable, the more and less respectable 
would form, as they do with us, divisions of their society. 
Now, suppose that the knowledge and real belief of a holy 
and Almighty God were- introduced among the inhabitants of 
this world — would it have no influence upon their feelings and 
their conduct? Would it not become one element, and a 
mighty one indeed, of all their actions ? Would it be possi- 
ble to introduce into the minds of intelligent beings a set of 
ideas entirely different from all they possessed before — ideas 
relating to objects the most important to their interests, the 
most elevating in their nature, addressed to their fears and to 
their hopes, appealing to all their strongest emotions, involv- 
ing their whole happiness for time and for eternity — without 
producing any corresponding change in their feelings and con- 
duct? The very supposition is absurd. And why is not this 
corresponding effect produced upon us ? Why do we live and 
act and feel just as if there were no God in the universe, or as 
if the knowledge of his existence were concealed from us ? 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 125 



There would be nothing necessary, to change the whole face 
of human society and the whole current of human affairs, but 
to bring down upon every human bosom the deep conviction 
of the existence of God and a true conception of his awful at- 
tributes. Could I bring home to your minds this day the pres- 
ence of the Holy One of Israel, his awful majesty, his infinite 
purity, his all-embracing greatness, the fierceness of his hot 
displeasure against sin, the keenness of his searching glance, 
those eyes which like a flaming Are pass to and fro through 
the earth, penetrating the hypocrite's disguise, detecting the 
formalist's heartlessness, and gazing with clear and unimpeded 
vision on the dark pollutions of the sinner's bosom — could I 
lift the veil which separates the seen from the unseen, and 
show you that "majestic presence which fills this house, en- 
circles this assembly, pervades each bosom, lays bare each 
thought and purpose — would it not bring down each proud 
imagination, subdue each rebellious thought, and bring the 
mastery of a deep and breathless reverence to bear on every 
emotion and feeling? But I see a hand you cannot see. I 
hear a voice you cannot hear. And it is because, having 
eyes, you see not, having ears, you hear not, understand not, 
believe not, that you shall die in your sins, O sinner ! and 
where God and Christ are you can never come. 

Let us take a few cases out of many which present them- 
selves to our view upon the surface of every-day society, and 
see whether we may not recognize the same fundamental 
atheism which is charged by the text against all the sons and 
daughters of Adam. Let us pass through human society, in 
all its orders and gradations, and notice the operations of our 
common nature in each, from him who grovels in its lowest 
state, to him who shines the wonder and the envy of thousands 
upon its highest pinnacle. Let us visit the abodes of wretched- 
ness and crime, where the victims of justice, the outcasts ot 
society are reserved for long confinement or for speedy pun- 
ishment. There lies the chained murderer. He was a man of 
blood, fierce and fiery passions have burnt deep upon his face 
the marks of crime. His last crime was perhaps his greatest, 



126 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



and deep remorse now overclouds his brow, while savage and 
malignant passions send forth gleams of more than anger from 
his stern eye. When he whetted the knife for his unsuspect- 
ing victim, when he tried its temper sportively amidst his 
hardened comrades, when he spoke of blood, of human blood, 
and his eye flashed wildly at the thought of his sweet re- 
venge, when he approached with slow and stealthy pace to the 
appointed spot, and crouched in breathless silence to leap upon 
his prey, when his dagger gleamed in the twilight and met a 
brother's heart — did he then believe that there is a God, who 
ruleth in the heavens and heareth the voice of blood when it 
crieth from the ground ? One believing apprehension of his 
existence, his greatness, and his presence, would have quelled 
his angry passion, the upraised dagger would have fallen 
harmless at his side, and the man of blood, rebuked by the 
majesty of the Almighty, would have stood abashed and hum- 
bled in his sight. 

Let us rise one grade in the scale of moral being, and be- 
hold the drunkard and the -gambler — men who would shudder 
at the crime of murder and spurn the charge of atheism as a 
calumny. Is it possible for any man who witnesses their mid- 
night revels, their reckless disregard of all the warnings of 
conscience, their horrid desecration of the tenderest and most 
sacred ties, their violation of the most solemn, duties and in- 
human trampling under feet the most binding obligations — 
is it possible to believe, that the mind which is the dwelling- 
place of such desperate passions, and the perpetrator of such 
horrid, crimes, does at the very moment entertain the strong 
belief, that there is a God who beholds and will reward ? 

Did he, who won from the infatuated husband the last mite 
which remained to supply the wants of a dying wife and her 
perishing children ; did he, who to gratify his lust for gaming, 
reduced his family to beggary and want ; did he, who gave him- 
self to be a slave to beastly drunkenness, destroying his own 
rational powers and involving an innocent family in his dis- 
grace and ruin; did he, who laid his snares for the young and 
unsuspecting and allured them onward in the same career with 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



127 



himself to the same hopeless destruction — did any of these be- 
lieve, in their inmost souls, that there is a God, who will take 
vengeance on iniquity and sin, who will hear the cries of the 
distressed and afflicted, and will visit on every sinner, with 
tenfold fury, the recompense due to his transgressions ? Could 
they delight in the sin which they knew was to be so speedily 
punished ? Could they roll, as a sweet morsel under their 
lips, what they knew would turn to gall and wormwood and 
deadly poison in the system? ISTo, they have said in their 
hearts, There is no God. They have said, Who is the Lord, that 
we should regard him ? They have said, u He is altogether 
such a one as ourselves." . " He doth not observe, he doth 
not consider." And because sentence agaiust an evil work is 
not executed speedily, they have asked, Where is the promise 
of his coming ? and their hearts have been fully set within 
them to do evil. 

Even among those whom the amiable and courtly moralist 
is most disposed to treat with kindness and with deference, 
who move in the walks of refined and elevated society, and 
by the gentleness of their manners, and the cheerfulness of 
their spirits, cast a life and buoyancy over all around them — 
may there not be found, with all their amiable traits, a care- 
lessness of God, an indifference to his favor, which carries 
home upon them too the charge of atheism in the sight of 
God. Behold the young man, as he enters upon life, panting 
for distinction, keen in his pursuit of knowledge, or his love 
of pleasure. The bloom of health is upon his cheek, the 
buoyancy of youth is in his spirits, the frank and unsuspect- 
ing confidence of youth is developed in all his movements. 
He commends himself to the approbation of man, for he 
abounds in all those qualities which are useful and agreeable 
in human society. But we ask if, amidst all this anxiety and 
effort to commend himself to man, he has one single anxiety, 
makes one single effort, to commend himself to God ? Would 
his conduct be at all different, would not his feelings be the 
same, if the name of God were erased from his memory, and 
the notion of God blotted out from his understanding, as the 



128 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



thought of God undoubtedly is from the whole current of his 
reflections ? 

We know not a more engaging spectacle than that alluded 
to "before, unless it may be that of one who has just passed 
the tempestuous season of his youth and escaped the ship- 
wreck of the passions, who retains all the ardor of youth 
without its violence, all the sensibility of passion without its 
wild excesses, whose feelings have been regulated by experi- 
ence and not destroyed, who has mellowed into ripeness with- 
out losing the freshness and fragrance of his first young emo- 
tions. Now, we care not how highly you exalt such a char- 
acter as this, and cast around him the dazzling drapery of a 
thousand virtues which exist only in the imagination of his 
warm admirers — we are willing to admit the truth of all your 
fancy dreams ; nay, so satisfied do we feel of the perfect cer- 
tainty of our position, we would lend our feeble aid, if neces- 
sary, to fill up the outline your fancy has already sketched. 
Let his bosom be the home of the gentlest and loftiest emo- 
tions, and over all his intercourse with men let there be dif- 
fused the charm of a winning gracefulness which, flowing un- 
studied from the heart, reaches the hearts of all, and gathers 
to itself a still higher tribute than that of admiration, even 
the unbought affections of all around him — the purest of 
patriots, the firmest and truest of friends, the tenderest of 
parents, the kindest among all his acquaintance. Let him 
unite, in his single person, all those public and private excel- 
lencies which men admire and exhibit to the world — the fairest 
specimen that has yet been seen of our. fallen nature. Yet 
against this man so endowed by nature, so improved by edu- 
cation, so enthroned in the hearts of those around him, so en- 
circled with the halo of tbose virtues which men admire, do 
we bring the same sweeping charge, as against others, of utter 
alienation from God, and a practical renunciation of his ex- 
istence and his government. Nor can we at all perceive how, 
if the whole population of our globe were composed of such 
individuals, it would at all affect the truth of our position. 
The possession of certain relative and social feelings toward 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



129 



men, which we admit, does not certainly prove the existence 
of certain other feelings toward God. 

The inhabitants of a State might cast off the authority of 
our Union, or a distant province might reject the dominion of 
an emperor, and yet, amidst the very leaders of this rebellion, 
there might be exercised all those relative and social feelings 
to which we have alluded. There might be a chivalry which 
defied all danger, an honor that was never tarnished, a patience 
that endured every privation and labor and suffering, a high 
enthusiasm which endeared to all the inhabitants of their 
province and their state ; and yet toward the government 
against which they have rebelled there is certainly no feeling 
of regard, no recognition of its authority. And even so may 
there be all these various exhibitions of what is amiable and 
agreeable and admirable among men, while there is no recog- 
nition of God whatever. 

I could point you to the metropolis of a polished nation 
where education and fashion haA T e combined to cast over 
female society a vivacity, a brilliancy, and a charm, not else- 
where known ; and yet in the most polished circles of that 
gay metropolis the doctrines of atheism are taught by female 
lips, and the astonished foreigner is told that he is still in the 
shackles of priestly domination, and that his reverence for 
Deity is the last relic of an exploded superstition. K~ow we 
ask you if all the vivacity of her conversation, all the grace- 
fulness of her movements, all the bright intelligence of her 
sparkling eye, will at all disprove the assertion of her lips ? 
And does she not stand before you by her own mouth, a self- 
convicted atheist ? But which carries with it the greatest 
weight — the conduct, or the language ?■ And those two gay 
and thoughtless devotees of fashion and of pleasure, who 
circle side by side in the maze of the dance, and dwell, with 
wrapt and senseless admiration on the splendors of the theatre, 
and, in every other way that human folly has devised, endeavor 
to waste together the day of their probation — we say not, 
that there is no difference between them, but we say that it 
is rather nominal than real, that it is more in word than in 
6* 



130 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISil. 



reality : and we appeal to your own sober reason to decide, 
whether, if the difference be important, it be not all in favor 
of that one who, denying altogether the Divine existence, 
treats the whole as a delusion, and against her who profess- 
ing to believe it, as the most solemn and important truth which 
has ever burst upon the human mind to enlighten and exalt 
it, yet treats it all as the idlest superstition, gives it no place 
in her thoughts, no hold on her affections, no influence on her 
conduct, and thus adds to the folly of atheism, and the folly 
of worldliness, the guilt of hypocrisy. 

And here we would turn aside for a moment to notice that 
charge which is so often brought against the professors of 
Christianity — -that they are the exclusive hypocrites of the 
day, and that, though there may be something of virtue in the 
church, in it especially is found an abounding vice, which, by 
its meanness, casts all others in the shade. jSTow to all that 
infidels or worldly men may say against the inconsistency of 
many professing Christians, we yield at once our most hearty 
and unqualified assent, and we say let hypocrisy die' the death, 
whether it be transfixed by the brandished spear of truth, or 
perish under the poisoned arrows of a malignant infidel. And 
to the infidelity of our own and other times we must yield 
this passing homage, that its sarcasm and its petulance have 
often aided the cause of truth and helped to weed out many 
errors in doctrine and in practice, that it may aspire to this 
dignity in common with other beasts of prey, that it lives by 
feeding on vermin more noxious than itself. But not only 
would we root out hypocrisy from the church, w~e would also 
banish it, if possible, from the world. And therefore would 
we allude to a species of hypocrisy universally prevalent 
among worldly men, which, to the eye of impartial observa- 
tion, wears a still more revolting aspect than any that is 
witnessed among professed Christians. There are those. who 
deride the revelation of God's truth as a feeble and idle fabri- 
cation, and view the believers in its doctrines as ignorant and 
misguided zealots. They assume the air of superior wisdom, 
and assert the possession of a higher, purer, and more philo- 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OP ATHEISM. 



131 



sophical theology. To them the book of nature is transparent 
on every page. All the mystery which is thrown over the 
dealings and character of the universal Father is dissipated by 
that clearer light which comes to them from the skies, and 
chases away from their minds the darkness and the mists of a 
gloomy superstition. However it may be with others, they, 
at least, are privileged to walk in the clear sunshine, to breathe 
the pure air of a more exalted region, to expatiate in the free- 
ness of ^heir untrammelled spirits over every field of large and 
elevating thought. 

Now, to such we would only say, you who have so much 
more worthy and exalted views of the Creator's character 
should certainly be, of all men, the most profound in your 
reverence, the most ardent in your affection, the most faithful 
in your obedience, the most unwearied in your service, the 
most submissive to his dispensations, the most frequently 
engaged in holy contemplation of his character, and wrapt in 
humble and delightful admiration of his glorious perfections. 
To you the motives are still stronger than to any other for 
rising superior to all sensual pleasures, and all selfish interests, 
and, borne upward as you are on stronger pinions, you well 
might soar to higher flights of virtuous exertion. But, alas, 
for the philosophy of Deism, the very mention of what you 
should be is the bitterest of sarcasms upon what you are. 
The very language of devotion is unknown in your vocabu- 
lary, the habit of meditation upon God is the farthest of all 
others from your practice. Among all your other bus)^ and 
restless thoughts, the thought of God seldom ever mingles, or, 
if it come at all, is hastily expelled as an unwelcome intruder. 
The name of God seldom falls from your lips ; when it does, it 
is only that its sacredness may be profaned by some horrid 
imprecation, or some trivial oath. When, in the society of 
some Christian friends, the name of God is mentioned with 
reverence, and his praises meekly spoken, does it not sound in 
your ears like the strange language of some unknown land ? 
And would it not appear the dreariest of all possible conditions 
to be confined for life to society such as this, with which you 



132 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



have no community of thought or sympathy of feeling ? And 
now we ask you whether, in the whole universe of God, there 
can possibly be found a more palpable and shameful contra- 
diction than that which is exhibited in the conduct of the man 
who has so much regard for God in words and so little in 
reality, who professes so much love and admiration for a being 
of whom he seldom or never thinks, who acknowledges a bene- 
factor and yet feels no gratitude, has a father and exhibits no 
filial affection, a sovereign and shows no obedience, who boasts 
of all the light of day and yet has all the chilliness of night, 
and the beautiful display of all his boasted and philosophical 
religion is only the frost-work which has grown up amid the 
coldness of his own abstracted speculations, and disappears 
before the heat of passion, or is trampled under foot in the 
bustle and haste of worldly business, and the conflict of worldly 
interests ?' 

And now, having endeavored to illustrate and to confirm, 
by various examples, the doctrine of our text, we would direct 
your attention to one important deduction that may be drawn 
from the whole, namely, the importance and reasonableness of 
the doctrine of justification by faith. It has been for centuries 
the habit of superficial reasoners to deride the doctrine of 
justification by faith, and to dwell, even to nauseousness, on the 
indifference of human opinions, and the absurdity of judging 
man by his internal principles instead of his outward conduct. 
Now in -opposition to all such declarations, we might plead, 
did we need aid of authority to sustain us, the opinion of the 
most acute philosopher and most eloquent historian of our age 
— a man who stood alike pre-eminent at the bar, in the senate, 
and in the literary circles of Great Britain — the late accom- 
plished' Sir James Mackintosh. Speaking of the doctrine of 
justification by faith, as avowed and defended by Luther, and 
especially his doctrine " that men are not made righteous by 
performing actions externally good, but must have righteous 
principles in the first place, and then they will not fail to 
perform virtuous actions," he calls it " the principle which is 
the basis of all ethical judgment, by the power of which he 



THE SIN AND FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



struck a mortal blow at superstition" — a proposition equally 
certain and sublime — the basis of all pure ethics — the cement 
of the eternal alliance between morality and religion. It is 
founded, indeed, on a profound and thorough knowledge of 
the human heart, and the secret springs of human actions. 

As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. His character is 
always decided by his prevailing views and opinions. Place 
before you the finest possible specimen of human nature, a 
man the most energetic in his conduct, the most vivid in his 
emotions, and deprive him one by one of all his opinions ; let 
him cease to believe that there is kindness in the smile which 
beams upon him from the countenance of his friend, that there 
is heat in the fire upon his hearth, that there is nourishment 
in the food upon his table, and do you not perceive that as 
you strip him gradually of all his opinions and belief, you like- 
wise divest him of all his feelings and principles of action, till 
he stands at last before you a statue, mute, motionless, unfeel- 
ing, with all the organs of speech, and all the capacities for 
vigorous action and strong emotion, but dormant now and 
undeveloped for want of their natural and appropriate stimuli. 
Now, suppose you wished to arouse this breathing statue from 
the listless apathy into which he had sunk, would you not just 
seek to open the only avenue by which feeling could reach the 
heart, and which had just been closed — the avenue of an 
assured belief of all the truths which he had doubted ? And 
as each new truth flashed home upon his mind, would you not 
expect to see the glow of a new feeling on his cheek, and the 
movement of a new impulse on his whole frame, and would 
not this harp of a thousand strings vibrate harmoniously to 
every ray of light that beamed in upon it from without, as did 
that fabled harp of old which, though untouched by human 
hands, sent back the softest music when touched by the first 
beams of the rising sun? If then a change must pass upon the 
human heart before we can be saved, if we be altogether dead 
in sins as the Bible represents us, if we need the introduction 
of some new affections and dispositions into our characters, it 
must be accomplished through the introduction of some new 



134 



THE SIX AXD FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



truth, and this truth can neither enter into the mind or influence 
the feelings or character or conduct without being believed. 

There are two problems to be solved, and only two, with 
respect to man's salvation. First, to make it consistent with 
God's law. And this has been done by the substitution and 
death of the Saviour. The second, to make it consistent with 
man's character, and this can only be solved as it is done in 
the Bible. He can only be sanctified by faith or an honest 
belief of the truth, unless indeed you can find some other way 
of promoting moral purity and worth than through the influ- 
ence of moral truth, or some way for this truth to operate 
without being received into the mind and cordially believed. 
If faith were indeed as some conceive, a mere set of notions, 
having no connection with feeling or action— did the Bible 
connect the salvation of man with the belief of certain dogmas 
which have no relation to his happiness or virtue, were not 
faith an active, living, practical principle that worketk by love 
and purifieth the heart — then it would all be absurd enough. 
But since the connection is obvious and indissoluble between 
the belief of men and their whole character ; since no man 
acts without an object, which he believes to have both exist- 
ence and value, nor feels but in view of something which he 
believes deserves the exercise of feeling, we conceive that the 
doctrine of justification by faith is no absurdity in morals, but 
is only the particular application of a principle which is uni- 
versally true. Indeed, the very conception of a religion which 
did not require the exercise of faith would be a contradiction 
in terms. It would be a system of belief which was not 
believed, a system of truths not received as true. 

But in vain does the fool say, that there is no God. He is 
contradicted by all without and all within him, by the whole 
animated and the whole inanimate creation. Does he com- 
mune with his own heart upon his bed, and in the stillness 
and solitude of night does he seek to hear the still soft voice 
of conscience ? From his inmost spirit there comes a voice 
which neither hesitates nor doubts, but says with undoubting 
assurance that there is a God. Does he ask of the wise and 



THE SIX AXD FOLLY OF ATHEISM. 



135 



good of every age ? With united voice they testify to the 
existence of a God. Does lie seek to know the universal 
opinion of mankind ? From the East and from the West, 
from the Xorth and from the South, from the burning Equator 
to the frozen Poles, from every savage tribe and every nation 
of civilized and enlightened men, from every people and kin- 
dred under heaven there comes one long and loud response, 
like the voice of many waters, and the sound of mighty thun- 
der, saying, There is a God that ruleth in the heavens. Does 
he turn to the works of nature and question them ? Nature, 
through all her provinces has but one answer. The lowly 
valley with its verdant covering and its garniture of flowers 
as plainly declares his existence and his greatness as the 
mountain which lifts its head on high with its mighty forests 
waving for centuries untouched upon its summit. It is mur- 
mured by the rivulet, it is whispered in the breeze, it is thun- 
dered on the storm, and when Ocean lifts up his voice on high, 
and wave calleth unto wave, the roar of his ever-dashing waters 
is only the deep and majestic chorus to that universal hymn 
of praise which swells from land and sea, from hill and valley, 
from the untrodden desert and the cultivated field, by day and 
by night, unceasingly, to the Omnipotent Creator. 

And do not the heavens declare his glory and the firmament 
show forth his handiwork ? Yes, there is a voice which comes 
to man from those far distant worlds, and they tell him that 
the energy of Almighty power has not been exhausted on this 
single world, and that wherever they have travelled, yet in the 
greatness of their way, as they have swept by other planets 
and other systems in their dizzy flight, they have ever been 
guided by an eye that slumbereth not, and upheld by an arm 
that is never wearied, and that in those regions of immeasura- 
ble space which no eye of man has ever reached and no tele- 
scope of man has ever brought within the field of human vision — 
there are the footsteps of the Creator visible, and that over the 
boundlessness of this unseen and illimitable empire has he 
poured forth with unsparing hand the riches of a goodness 
which knows no limit, and manifested the greatness of a power 



138 



THE SIX AND FOLLY OE ATHEISM. 



winch is infinite and inexhaustible. But regardless of all this 
concurring testimony of nature, amidst this joyful symphony 
of all creation, the voice of the atheist is heard, in peevish and 
querulous accents, murmuring forth : No, there is no God. It 
is not surprising then that he who denies and contemns the 
existence and the attributes of God should find little sympathy 
among the rest of mankind, that he is regarded with unmin- 
gled abhorrence, and considered as one of those rare and stu- 
pendous monsters of iniquity whom we seldom see, whose very 
existence, we are often prone, for the honor of our nature, to 
deny. 

Now we have not the slightest wish to lessen in your minds 
this natural abhorrence for the principles and character of the 
speculative atheist. Nay, believing as we do that it is both 
natural and just, we would desire to see it increased and ren- 
dered permanent, to see it pass from a mere sentiment to a 
warm emotion, and from an emotion to a principle of action, 
extending to atheism of every form, whether exhibited by 
ourselves or others, avowed by the tongue or by the conduct, 
or lingering in secret concealment in the recesses of the heart. 



III. 



WHAT WAS FINISHED IN THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 



John, xix. 30. — " He said, It is finished: and bowed-his head, and gave up the 
ghost." (John, iv. 3-i, xvii. 4; Luke, xii. 50, xviii. 31; Acts, xx. 24; 
2 Tim. iv. 7.) 



How much of solemn and touching interest is often contained 
in this brief expression, It is finished ! We stand by the bed- 
side of one endeared to us by a thousand tender recollections 
of the past, and doubly endeared by the sufferings of the pres- 
ent, and the mournful anticipations of the future — a child of 
sorrows, lingering through months of tedious disease, quietly, 
with lamblike resignation, enduring the visitations of a father's 
hand; and when death, whose slow approach we have long 
observed, at last seizes the extremities, and, advancing onward 
a triumphant foe, storms the citadel of the heart, we exclaim, 
with a melancholy satisfaction, It is finished ! The conflict is 
passed. The struggle at last is over. The suffering spirit is 
released, and, far above all scenes of earthly sorrow, reposes 
in the presence of the Lord. 

We hear of the death of some benefactor of the race, dis- 
tinguished by his self-denying labors, his eloquent appeals, his 
patient sufferings for the benefit of man, and we say, It is fin- 
ished ! The fatherless have lost a friend, the poor a protector, 
the oppressed an advocate, the world an ornament. He is 
gone, his loss is irreparable, and hallowed be his memory. 
But his virtues shall live in the hearts of men, and his blest 
example be fondly treasured up as a model to admire and to 
imitate. Some man of ambition, some aspiring politician or 
successful warrior, passes oft* from the scene which he bad long 



138 



WHAT WAS FINISHED 



filled and agitated ; and we say again, at last, It is finished ! 
The mighty is fallen ; ambition has reached its goal. In the 
full tide of his success has he been arrested ; blasted are all his 
hopes, frustrated his schemes, "dimmed his bright eye, and 
curbed his high career." And thus ever, in proportion to the 
tenderness of our mutual relations, the depth of his sufferings, 
the nobleness of his nature, the largeness of his plans, and the 
wonderfulness of his achievements ; as he has excited our affec- 
tion, our sympathy, our gratitude, our admiration or esteem, 
do we comprehend the full meaning of that expression, It is 
finished ! And it is only when the fond heart gathers up its 
recollections, and memory recalls the traces of a character at 
once so tender and so noble — all that he was to us and to 
others, to our country, to the world, to the past, the present, 
and the future — that we sink beneath the weight of our emo- 
tions ; and mournful and startling, as the toll of midnight 
death-bell in pestilential city, is the sound, It is finished ! 

But never before were these words so full of meaning as I? i 
the mouth of the crucified Redeemer. Never was friendship 
so ardent as his to mankind. Never was love so tender, de- 
signs so large, accomplishment so glorious. His love was a 
brother's, his compassion a God's ; his designs, formed in eter- 
nity, embraced two worlds ; his victory was over death and 
hell, over principalities and powers. His throne is exalted far 
above the heavens, and around it are gathered uncounted mil- 
lions of those who were redeemed by his love out of every 
nation and kindred under the whole heavens. We have- said 
there is a fulness of meaning in the language of our text which 
is found nowhere beside. Do you doubt it? Behold that 
meek and patient sufferer on the cross, and hear him say with 
his expiring breath, "Father, forgive them, they know not 
what they do." Do you doubt it ? The blackening heavens 
roll onward as my wdtness. Do you doubt it? The bursting 
rocks thunder it in your ears. Do you doubt it ? The dead 
spring from their graves to rebuke your incredulity, and the 
trembling centurion unconsciously exclaims, Truly this was the 
Son of God. Let us then contemplate the words of our text 



IN THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 



130 



without hoping or attempting to exhaust their full meaning, 
and inquire, 

What was then finished ? And we say, 
1st. His state of humiliation and suffering was finished. 
• 2d. All that prophecy had predicted, and types had prefig- 
ured, and hope had longed for, was accomplished. 

3d. The glorious work he had com.3 to do was completely 
finished. 

1st. His state of humiliation and suffering was finished. If 
we had been informed that a messenger should visit us from 
heaven, how various would haA^ebeen our expectations. How 
different from all these expectations was the actual condition 
of our Saviour. He took no angelic form, but was made in 
fashion like a man ; he wore no robe of light, but was wrapped 
in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger. His first appear- 
ance was not in the world's metropolis, but in a distant and 
subjugated province. His countrymen were a despised and out- 
cast tribe. Of this distant province and this outcast tribe he 
chose not the most conspicuous city, or the most distinguished 
relatives. His native town was one of the obscurest villages 
of Judea, his relatives came of the humblest among the people : 
a carpenter his reputed father, and his birthplace a stable. 
The course of his life corresponded to its humble commence- 
ment. He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, 
despised and rejected of men, and we turned, as it were, our 
faces from him. 

That life which began in poverty was closed in ignominy 
by a death that was as agonizing as it was disgracefnl, the 
instrument a cross, his companions two thieves. He had left 
the throne of his glory and come down on an errand of unut- 
terable love. And how was he received ? Was he greeted 
with the loud welcomes of the race he came to save ? Did the 
grateful multitudes gather around him to catch those lessons 
of wisdom, and to hear those tones of grace and mercy which 
fell from his lips ? They collected, indeed, often around him, 
at one time to entrap him in his words, at another to feed on 
his bounty, or to be healed of their diseases. And even when 



140 



WHAT WAS FINISHED 



they listened to his teaching, their corrupt and sensual hearts 
revolted at its pure and exalted spirituality. Their pride re- 
belled against his just rebukes, their hypocrisy trembled at his 
keen exposures, and now they exclaimed, This is a hard say- 
ing, who can bear it ? None. Do not we well say, thou hast 
a devil and art mad? Even they who were the chosen com- 
panions of his ministry, whom he had selected from the world 
to be the depositories of his doctrine, the witnesses of his 
resurrection, the honored heralds of his great salvation to a 
guilty race, how slow to comprehend the sublime truths which 
he revealed, how slow to believe the promises he gave. 

There is implanted deep in human nature the yearning desire 
after human companionship and human sympathy, the felt 
necessity for the mutual interchange of thoughts and feelings, 
for hearts that swell with emotion like our own, and minds 
that can comprehend and appreciate our character, to whom 
we may communicate our hopes and fears, our plans of useful- 
ness and our views of duty, our sober reasonings and our waking 
dreams. Nor can we conceive a condition more melancholy 
than that of him who, elevated too far above those around 
him in intellect and feeling, seeks in vain for sympathy among 
all his fellows, and finds that the whole cast of his mind and 
current of his feelings is irreconcilable with theirs. That his 
high enthusiasm is, with them, another name for madness, his 
lofty conscientiousness is stigmatized as hypocrisy, his aspira- 
tions after nobler objects and high attainments denounced as 
ambition. And when from the uncongenial society around 
him he retreats into the sanctuary of his own bosom, and in 
the privacy of his retirement holds converse with God and 
nature and his own chastened soul, he is considered as one 
possessed with an anti-social and gloomy spirit. 

Now the Saviour possessed in all their energy the innocent 
emotions of our nature, and especially those most warmly cher- 
ished by lofty and generous minds. With him to feel was to 
communicate, to know was to teach, to mingle with men was 
to go forth in all the ardor of his emotions, approving what 
was right, condemning what was wrong. When he looked 



IN THE DEATH OF CUR 1ST. 



in 



upon the young man who had kept the commandments, he 
loved him. When he beheld the hypocrisies of the Pharisees 
he groaned with anguish, and denounced their wickedness in 
terms expressive of the deepest detestation. To one thus con- 
stituted, in whom all that is lovely and noble produced a 
thrilling delight, and all that is base and low excited a loathing 
inexpressible, how painful must it have been to mingle, even, 
with the best and purest of mankind. He had mingled in the 
society of heaven, he bad lain in the bosom of his Father 
through untold generations, he had rejoiced in the glories of 
that upper world, in that mysterious and unfathomable inter- 
course between the Father and the Son; and now, a voluntary 
exile from the court of heaven, a voluntary participant of an 
inferior nature, he was to mingle with those whose every feel- 
ing was fastened to the dust, to pity the weakness and blindness 
and ignorance and vanity of the best, to endure the hypocrisy 
and fraud and angry violence of the worst. How did his holy 
soul groan beneath the weight of this affliction ? And how 
often did his feelings burst forth in earnest expostulation ? To 
his npostles often did he complain of their stupidity and blind- 
ness. At one time he rebukes their unbelief : " Oh, fools, and 
slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken;" 
"Are ye so also without understanding; do ye not know, 
neither perceive?" And again, " Oh, ye of little faith, how 
long shall I be with you; how long shall I endure ?" 

But what language shall express the deep emotions of holy 
indignation which he felt when witnessing the cool and artful 
hypocrisy of the priests and elders ? These were the lesser evils 
which darkly tinged the whole current of his life, and were the 
prelude to those keener agonies which immediately preceded its 
final close. When we speak of that we have not felt, we speak 
at random, and no human mind can at all conceive, or human 
tongue express the agonies that wrung the Saviour's soul in 
the hour of his last great conflict. There is an awful mystery 
around the subject that shrouds it from human view. We 
know, indeed, that he bore our sins in his body on the cross. 
But what is this — the burden of our sins ? We may have felt 



142 



WHAT WAS FINISHED 



its weight upon our consciences ; we may have seen its tem- 
poral punishment in the persons of others, or felt it in our own. 
But what is this to the far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of anguish which presses on the soul hereafter? And what 
are the sins of an individual to those of a world ? Ah, he was 
mighty to save, who bore the burden of our sins, and he trav- 
ailed in the greatness of his strength ; yet did the pressure 
of our heavy guilt force from his agonized frame great drops, 
as of blood, and wring, thrice wring, from his resigned and 
patient spirit that earnest prayer, " Father, let this cup pass 
from me" — this cup of salvation for a race, this cup of bitter- 
ness for me, let it pass away. We know that he who was 
one in essence with the Father cried out upon the cross, "My 
God, my God, why hast thou deserted me ?" 

But how little do we know of the mysterious and fearful mean- 
ing of that dying cry? Did the Divinity leave that human 
nature to bear unaided and alone the whole penalty due to 
sin ? And what is the condition of one deserted by God ? 
What darkness gathers around his soul? What desolation 
overspreads his nature? What despair sickens his heart? 
What torture racks his frame ? Ah, we shall never know the 
full meaning of this cry, until perdition shall disclose its 
terrors, and reveal in that world of woe the condition of those 
whom God has deserted forever. Now these agonies were 
over, the last drop was exhausted from the cup of trembling 
and wrath, the Saviour, about to leave this world of humilia- 
tion and suffering for enjoyment of his rightful glories, might 
well exclaim in triumph, " It is finished." 

2d. All that prophecy had predicted, and types prefigured, 
and hope had longed for, was now accomplished. For four 
thousand years man was a prisoner of hope', shut up to the 
glory that was to be revealed. During this long period the 
whole creation longed and sighed for that deliverance which 
was to come. This hope of a coming deliverer is found 
stamped on the literature, and interwoven with the institu- 
tions and habits, and the traditions of the most distant nations, 
from the remotest times. 



IN THE DEATH OP CHRIST. 



143 



The sense of guilt and ignorance and misery, on which the 
necessity and desire for such a Redeemer and Instructor was 
founded, expressed itself in the sacrifices, the self-tortures, the 
penances, the pilgrimages, the ablutions which have been uni- 
versal among mankind. This feeling was confined to no portion 
of the globe, and no condition of society, but was experienced 
alike by the civilized and the barbarous, by the peasant and 
the philosopher. Whether this expectation be the obscure 
recollection of some traditional prophecy,! care not to inquire. 
If not it is something more conclusive still. It is the universal 
ivoice of nature, the prophecy primeval within us, not written 
>)n paper, or on stone, but engraven by the Almighty's hand on 
jsvery heart. It is the universal yearning of man's heart after 
liome expected and necessary good. It is the appetite which 
boints to the proper food. It is the want which indicates a 
pertain supply. It is the adaptation which necessarily supposes 
he use. 

J And tell me now, ye who have studied man, is there in his 
vhole physical, moral, and intellectual constitution any thing 
juperfluous ? Is there any universal desire for which God has 
lot prepared a gratification ? Any want, for which there is no 
Igupply ? Any adaptation, without a corresponding use ? Has 
|g|rod taught us in our very nature, to hunger and thirst after 
' righteousness, and does he supply no bread of life ? Does he 
hear the young ravens when they cry for food, but disregard 
the longings of man's immortal past ? And to what, I pray 
you, is this universal desire and expectation adapted, for what 
purpose given, unless to prepare us for that Redeemer who at 
last was revealed ? To preserve, to strengthen, to increase, and 
to render more distinct this universal desire and expectation 
of the race, was the great object of the whole Jewish dispen- 
sation. To him pointed all the types, of him testified all the 
prophets. He was the substance of all the shadows, the iul- 
filment of the whole law. Did the innocent lamb die an offer- 
ing to God: it was to point to the Lamb of God slain from 
the foundation of the world ; it was to testify that without the 
shedding of blood there could be no remission of 3 sius. Did 



144 



"WHAT W r AS FINISHED 



the scape-goat upon which the people's sins had been confessed 
fiee away into the wilderness to be seen no more: it was to 
signify that our sins should be borne away by one who was 
able to sustain their burden, and that they should rise up no 
more in judgment against us. Was the whole of that compli- 
cated and expansive ritual kept up from generation to gen- 
eration : it was that each successive generation might look 
away, through the shadow, to him who is the substance. Did 
prophet after prophet rise and pass away: it was that from 
age to age the evidence might increase in quantity and clear- 
ness in favor of that mightier prophet who was still to come. 

To prepare for his coming was the design of the whole 
providential government of God : to this end served the whole 
Mosaic law, the august succession of prophets, the mighty 
revolutions of empires and kingdoms. How do we love a 
time long expected, long foretold, long prepared and prayed 
for. This time the prophets all desired to behold ; Abraham be- 
held it from afar and rejoiced in the sight. This was the true 
"seed of the Patriarch in whom the world was to be blessed." 
Moses looked forward with delight to the time when Jud all's 
departed sceptre should rest on Shiloh's head and the gather- 
ing of the people should be to him. Isaiah, Jeremiah, David, 
all the prophets, foretold in burning strains the approaching 
king and ruler, and desired earnestly to witness the realities of 
those wonders which they had all predicted. And now all this 
was completed. What was so much desired, predicted, hoped, 
prayed for, all, was accomplished, not one prophecy that con- 
cerned his person, his office, his sufferings, had failed. However 
contradictory some might appear, in him they were reconciled ; 
however minute, in him they were precisely fulfilled. Large 
were the, hopes that men had cherished, large the blessings 
they anticipated from the coming of this deliverer ; and these 
hopes were expressed and these blessings described in language 
of the most dazzling splendor. Those hopes were surpassed, 
those blessings exceeded. His origin was far nobler, his na- 
ture more exalted, his kingdom more extensive,, his designs 
more magnificent, and the accomplishment more glorious, 



IN. THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 



U5 



than hope had pictured or language had portrayed. Man 
looked for some superhuman deliverer ; he who came was Di- 
vine : for some mighty ruler; his throne is the heavens, and 
the earth his footstool, and to his dominion there is no bound- 
ary, and shall be no end. Deep was the interest felt by heaven 
and earth in the accomplishment, and anxiously were the eyes 
of men and angels directed to the hour when it should be said 
at last, " It is finished." 

His birth, which prophets had long announced on earth, 
angels proclaimed aloud from heaven ; and the exalted spirits 
who appeared with him* on the mount of transfiguration spoke 
of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem. 
The appointed hour had now arrived, the preparation of cen- 
turies was completed, the desire of all nations had come : the 
seed of the woman, who had bruised the serpent's head. 
Earth's hopes were fulfilled, heaven's designs accomplished. 
In this hour of deep and solemn interest, when hell was pour- 
ing forth the last .vials of its fury, and all heaven looked on in 
amazement, amidst the shuddering of nature, the blackening 
heavens, the bursting rocks, the opening sepulchres, the Saviour 
cried out, "It is finished." Well might the sun veil his face 
from that spectacle of horror, well might the astonished cen- 
turion exclaim, " Truly this was the Son of God." 

3d. The glorious work he had come to do was finished. 
That was no message of trifling import which the Saviour came 
down to bear : that was no work of inferior moment which he 
came down to execute, for which he put forth the greatness 
of his strength, for which he lived a life of humiliation and 
suffering on earth, for which he sweat great drops of blood, 
and offered up his soul to the agonies of the cross. In all the 
works of God there is a characteristic majesty, and on this 
there is the impress of his hand. He came not to create a 
world of matter, but to redeem a world of immortal spirits : 
not to bestow temporal blessings on an empire or a kingdom, 
but eternal happiness on the untold millions of Adam's fallen 
rac<\ 

If it was great to create, it was greater still to redeem. If 
1 



143 



TV HAT TTAS FINISHED 



the morning stars sang together and the sons of God shouted 
for joy, when of these heavens and this earth it was said, " They 
are finished," what notes of higher ecstasy and far diviner joy 
rnnst have resounded through the upper sky when the heavens 
and new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness, were com- 
pleted; when the great scheme of man's redemption was fin- 
ished : when the Saviour with his last dying breath sent from 
his full soul the cheering annunciation, "It is finished !" when 
the attending angels bore aloft the rapturous tidings, and 
heaven's high portals opening wide uttered soft music a> they 
proclaimed aloud, "It is finished," and the spirits of just men 
caught up the sound, and, gazing in each other's faces as they 
thought of earth, re-echoed, with aloud enthusiasm unknown to 
angels, " Glory to God. It is finished," and God the Father 
accepted the atonement, and smiling on this work of love, said 
likewise, "It is finished." 

This earth had long been in bondage to sin and Satan. Idol- 
atry, impurity, and misery had darkened and polluted it. A 
daring and high-handed rebellion had overspread all its borders. 
Darkness covered the earth, and gross darkness the people, 
and the last ray of light and comfort from on high, which 
might have cheered man's desolated heart, was shut out by a 
dreary and hopeless scepticism. The Saviour had come to 
bring life and immortality to light, to overthrow the power of 
the Evil One, to cast down the idols, to establish a new govern- 
ment of peace and holiness and love on earth, to transform 
rebellious subjects into peaceful citizens of Ms kingdom, to 
people heaven from earth, and to bring down to this lower 
world those heavenly principles which create hnppiness above. 

And, oh, what must have been the delight of his holy soul, 
when he saw that the object of his mission was accomplished, 
that- his work was finished, finished beyond defeat, finished 
with naught to add. When, from the cross on which he hung, 
lie looked with prophetic vision through the long, long lapse 
of ages, and beheld the innumerable multitude of the redeemed, 
the ten thousand times ten thousand from every nation and peo- 
ple under heaven, their garments washed white in his blood. 



IX THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 



147 



and their souls rescued by liis sufferings, how triumphantly 
might he exclaim, " The mighty work is finished ! The fatal 
stroke has been given to the kingdom of darkness. The bar- 
rier between God and man has been broken down, the claims 
of the law fully answered. Now God can be just and justify 
the ungodly; now Heaven is reconciled. to earth, and all its 
richest blessings are freely offered to the lowest of earth's 
children. It is finished !" 

Yes, for you, O Christian ! nothing is wanting. It is perfect 
in all its parts. The garment of righteousness, in which you 
will be clothed, needs no addition or improvement. The 
Saviour having loved his own, loved them on to the end. He 
drank the cup of bitterness to the dregs, he wrought out 
a plenteous redemption. For you, O sinner! it is finished. 
Nothing will now be added. This is God's last great effort to 
redeem you : his finished salvation. " What more could I do 
for my vineyard, which I have not done, saith the Lord." And 
now, how shall you escape if you neglect this great salvation? 
Heaven's inexhaustible treasury hath, been exhausted ; the Son 
of God hath come to purchase your salvation ; and what will 
you more ? If after all this, " you neglect him who speaketh 
to you from heaven," there is no more sacrifice for sin, but a 
certain looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which 
shall consume the adversaries. This is the only salvation and 
you must accept this, or perish in your sins. 

But let us remember, my friends, that to each one of us, the 
hour shall come when it shall be said of him, " It is finished." 
A deadly mortality shall seize upon our vitals, and the symp- 
toms of death shall gather fast and thick upon us; the difficult 
and impeded breathing, the low and fluttering pulse, the dim 
and glazed eye wandering aimless in the socket, the mind now 
sinking into stupor, now waking into fierce and convulsive life 
— while vain are the remedies of physicians, and fruitless the 
lamentations of friends. And at last, when death's agony is 
over, they shall say of us as they have said of others, " It is 
finished." Of that careless sinner now trifling away his day of 
grace, it shall be said, " It is finished ;" and of that haughty seoi- 



148 



WHAT "WAS FINISHED, ETC. 



fer, now heaping up wrath against the day of wrath, and soon 
perhaps to experience the realities he now derides, shall be 
said, by those who watch around his dying pillow, " It is fin- 
ished." The agony is now over; it was fearful to behold : one 
last convulsive effort did he make to struggle against death, 
as man grapples with his mortal foe : but it is finished. 

Then to his long account at last 
With many a groan that spirit past. 

But all is not finished there. It is appointed unto man once 
to die, and after thai — what comes ? Annihilation ? Xo, 
would you accept it as a boon ? But after death the judgment 
You may disregard the judgment of man, you may stand before 
his tribunal and challenge scrutiny into all the actions of your 
life. But can you defy the scrutiny of the heart-searching and 
reins-trying God ? Dare you stand before his bar and assert 
your perfect and unsullied purity in word, thought, or feeling? 
Alas, will you add insult to injury, folly to sin, and madly rush 
upon the vengeance you have wickedly provoked ? And for 
you, O Christian, shall soon be finished the cares, the anxieties, 
the temptations, and dangers of this life. On you shall open 
the unseen glories of the world above. But let us remember, 
likewise, that then will close all our opportunities for useful- 
ness among our fellow-men. And as we contemplate this day 
the death and sufferings of the Lord, let us determine to devote 
our whole selves to him who has done all for us ; who shunned 
no suffering and spared no expense, that we might be saved. 
And may we all be able to say, with the apostle, at last, " I 
have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith, I have finished 
my course ; henceforth is reserved for me a crown, wdiich he 
will give me in that day." 



IV. 

THE ANGELS INTERESTED IX MAISPS SALVATION. 



I. Peter, i. 12. — ;( T\Tiich things the angels desire to look into.'' 



The most ignorant man in the community will believe that 
a stone, thrown from the hand, will fall to the ground, because 
this is an occurrence which he lias often observed, and which 
has thus become familiar to his mind. By directing his atten- 
aon to the subject, he may be easily induced to admit, that the 
tendency of the stone toward the earth depends on some 
power in the earth, attracting -it toward itself. But if you 
attempt to extend the principle further, and apply it to other 
parts of the universe ; if you tell him, that the same principle 
of attraction which draws the stone to the earth, and whose 
operation he may observe in every moment of his life and 
upon all the bodies around him, operates likewise upon the 
remotest parts of God's universe, keeps the stars in their 
course, and binds the whole creation together, as in one bond 
of universal harmony, you present to his mind a train of 
thought, which is new, uuusually strange, entirely without the 
sphere of his accustomed contemplation, and you will find it 
extremely difficult to persuade him that you are not endeavor- 
ing to practise upon his ignorance, or yourself laboring under 
the melancholy influence of that k4 much learning, which 
maketh men mad." 

He never doubts, indeed, the existence of the world in which 
we live, or of the busy inhabitants which teem upon its sur- 
face, aud waste their frail and feverish existence in the pursuit 
of its idle pleasures, and still more idle and unsubstantial hon- 
ors; but he never dreams that there may be other worlds, 



150 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



crowded with other inhabitants ; that every star may be a sun, 
and every sun the centre of a system as large as that to which 
our world belongs; and that throughout the immensity of 
space, wherever the hand of the Creator has spread the evi- 
dences of bis almighty power, there he has placed intelligent, 
immortal creatures, to gaze with rapture on his works, to 
relish their beauties, and admire their sublimity, and to adore 
and love the wonderful Being from whom these glories sprung. 
Now we are accustomed to smile at the simple wonder of some, 
or the hardy incredulity of others, among the uninformed, when 
these majestic truths are presented to their minds, founded, as 
we know they all are, upon accurate observation and rational 
analogy, and some of them upon the solid basis of mathematical 
demonstration. But among those who feel their pity and their 
mirth excited by this resolute incredulity, this dogmatical 
scepticism of the ignorant upon astronomical subjects, there 
are not a few, who exhibit the same disposition, in the same 
degree and proceeding from the same causes, upon a different 
but much more important subject. 

The unlettered man rejects the truths which have just been 
enumerated, because he does not know their evidence. He 
sets them down at once as absurd, merely because they are 
uncommon, because they do not lie in the beaten track of his 
usual thoughts, or observations. On the same principle the 
infidel proceeds. He doubts the existence of a future world 
and the truth of all that has been revealed about it, because 
he does not understand the evidence in its favor : he rejects 
it peremptorily as absurd, because he has never seen it ; 
because it introduces his mind to a train of thought and 
feeling which is uncommon ; and to him it appears unlikely, 
strange and incredible. He believes that there are other 
material worlds beside the little globe on which we live, 
and possibly admits that they may be inhabited. But the 
existence of angels and their holy employments in worshipping 
God, and ministering to man, he utterly denies. That prin- 
ciple of attraction, which binds the remotest parts of the uni- 
verse together, is admitted by him, as an important part of hU 



IX MAX'S S.VLVATIOX. 



151 



astronomical system. But the opinion that there is a great 
principle of moral sympathy, which attracts the moral universe 
together, and excites an interest for the welfare of moral agents 
even in the most distant parts of the creation, he brands as the 
idlest fantasy of a disordered brain. While he gazes with 
intense interest upon the motion of worlds which are at an 
immeasurable distance from our earth, he thinks it the highest 
absurdity to suppose that there may be other beings in other 
worlds, watching with thrilling and anxious concern the ac- 
tions of moral agents upon this ; and while he gladly employs 
the telescopic glass in examining those stars, which are invis- 
ible to the naked and unassisted eye, he proudly rejects as 
useless and absurd those lights which the Gospel has provided 
to aid our feeble reason — that moral telescope, which has been 
kindly offered ■ us, to extend our vision to the future and in- 
visible world. 

Now the existence of angels is not in itself intrinsically more 
improbable than the existence of men. That their knowledge 
should be superior to ours is not more remarkable than our 
superiority to brutes ; and their sympathy with us is not more 
incredible than our sympathy in the sufferings or the joys ot 
inferior beings around us. The text asserts that the angels 
desire to look into these things, which concern man's salva- 
tion — the great plan of redemption which extends pardon to 
guilty rebels, and elevates fallen and ruined beings to hap- 
piness and heaven. That these are the things referred to in 
the text may be readily seen by examining the context. The 
expression in the original is still stronger than in our transla- 
tion, u Which things the angels anxiously long to scrutinize 
closely or accurately." The interest which is felt by the 
angels in the affairs of this world is represented, in other parts 
of Holy Writ, as being ardent and intense. There is joy in 
heaven, and among the angels of God, over even one sinner 
that repenteth. And here we are told that they anxiously 
scrutinize, strive to understand, the plan of salvation and closely 
watch its gradual developments. There is nothing at all in- 
credible, that God should take some interest in the happiness 



152 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



of those beings whom he has created ; or that those holy, in- 
telligent beings, who partake largely in his character, should 
feel a certain portion of the same interest. But it does seem 
remarkable that one little world should so strongly excite 
the interest, and attract the anxious attention of those high 
and holy beings; and we may surely be permitted humbly to 
inquire, why it is that "the angels so anxiously desire to look 
into the things " which concern mankind. 

And may we not say that it is because the condition of our 
world is singular and unexampled, and the method of God's 
administration over us, being suited to our condition, is like- 
wise uncommon. The angels are spiritual beings — great in 
power and vast in their capacities of thought and feeling. The 
whole creation of God is doubtless spread out as one great 
map before them, over which their immortal minds may expa- 
tiate forever, gathering each moment fresh stores of knowledge, 
and discovering new sources of ethereal happiness. What is the 
ardor of their activity, and the intensity of their enjoyment, we 
may learn faintly to conceive, from observing the operations of 
our own feeble and contracted minds. Even man, polluted and 
distracted as he is by impure and ungovernable passions — 
hampered and fettered as he is by a load of flesh which bears 
down the immaterial spirit in all its loftier aspirations, and 
sinks exhausted beneath its highest efforts — even man, when 
the soul is excited to its most vigorous exertions by the love 
of knowledge, or elevated to its highest ecstasy in the con- 
templation of God's sublime and wondrous creation, or ex- 
panded to its broadest comprehension by the boundless love 
of a risen and exalted Saviour, can send forth thoughts that 
wander through eternity, and think and feel unutterable thing? 

Those bright intelligences no doubt enjoy a wider field of ob- 
servation, a loftier elevation of feeling, and a more exquisite en- 
joyment than we are able ever to conceive. To us this little 
world is a world of wonders, and always affords to our feeble 
minds new subjects of wondering inquiry during our short and 
transitory existence. But to them the whole is unfolded, and it 
is a universe of wonders, a boundless field of inquiry for an undy- 



IN MAN'S SALTATION. 



153 



ing mind, an inexhaustible store-house of pure and ever increas- 
ing felicity. On every part of this great universe is stamped 
some feature of the Almighty's character. It is as one great 
mirror to image forth his glory, to reflect his praise. Over 
every portion of it has he cast a gorgeous magnificence, an en- 
chanting beauty, an awful sublimity, which overpowers the 
mind of an intelligent being, and subdues the spirit to the 
stillness of mute, reverential homage. And we may well sup- 
pose, that in some other worlds there maybe greater displays 
of almighty power than in ours. He may there have built up 
greater wonders, and pencilled brighter beauties, and in the 
minds of its rational inhabitants, as well as in the material 
scenery upon its surface, may have offered to the eye of con- 
templation a more lovely and more magnificent spectacle. 

But there is that in the history of our globe, which is of far 
deeper and more enduring interest than all the beauty and all 
the magnificence which are spread in such rich and boundless 
profusion over the other works of God. It is to the universe 
what Palestine is to our earth — a land of marvels : small in the 
space it fills upon the chart of nature ; but wonderful have been 
the events transacted on its surface ; and deep and breathless 
has been the interest which those events have excited. We 
have reason to believe that, of all the unnumbered worlds 
which are spread over the immensity of space, there is none, 
except our earth, that has broken loose from its allegiance to 
the Almighty ; that through the wide extent of God's magnifi- 
cent creation universal happiness and peace prevail. The 
smile of the common Father rests upon his obedient children, 
and the voice of humble gratitude and filial affection is wafted 
to the throne of the Eternal from his intelligent and happy 
offspring. But amidst this delightful scene, brightened all 
over with the beams of the Creator's favor, there is a little 
spot which lies beneath his frown, and is darkened by the 
visible tokens of his fierce displeasure. Amidst this general 
symphony of happy and unfallen beings, a sound is heard, it is 
the voice of wailing, the shriek of agony, the stifled groan of 
unutterable woe. One portion of God's happy family has cast 
1* 



154 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



off his mild and paternal government, has wandered far away 
from the community of holy beings, and though it still revolves 
around his sun, and retains its station in his heavens, remains 
only by sufferance — a blasted, scorched, and withered thing, 
the abode of misery and crime. 

There is in the feeling mind a pleasing sympathy with joy. 
But our sympathy with sorrow is far more deep and perma- 
nent. And if upon this globe there was but one instance of 
suffering and affliction, we might more easily understand the 
nature of that interest which attracts the angelic minds from 
the sublimest and loveliest scenery of creation to gaze upon 
this world cf solitary and unexampled misery. Unhappily we 
are but too familiar with pain in all its shapes. We are sur- 
rounded by it on every side ; we feel it in ourselves, and often 
still more acutely in the persons of beloved and endeared 
friends; till at last w T e have learned to meet it without surprise 
and sometimes to bear it without impatience. But suppose we 
had only seen one instance of pain and misery upon earth ; that 
wherever else we turned all was peace and happiness, every 
countenance was lighted up with pleasure, and every eye was 
bright w 7 ith exquisite enjoyment; but by some mysterious dis- 
pensation of a mysterious providence, the single individual 
alluded to was pressed down by the weight of some over- 
whelming calamity, his body racked by the most excruciating 
torments, and rendered loathsome by disease in its most dis- 
gusting forms, while his mind was crushed and blighted 
beneath the awful visitations of heaven— frenzied by the suf- 
ferings of the present moment, and haunted by the hateful 
remembrance of the past, and the still more dreadful anticipation 
of the future. 

If such a scene of suffering were the only one on earth, it 
would be considered the most remarkable phenomenon that 
ever appeared to excite the sympathies and attract the notice of 
mankind. In all the glories of the material world and all the 
happiness of its living inhabitants there would be nothing 
found to stir so deeply the feelings of our nature. The trav- 
eller would turn aside to gaze upon it as ona of the world's 



IN MAN'S SALVATION. 



155 



wonders; the philosopher would visit it to observe and medi- 
tate; the man of sensibility to sympathize, and, if possible, to 
soothe. And when the tale of his sufferings was told in distant 
lands by the returning voyager, the pale cheek and. the quiv- 
ering lip and the eye bedewed with tears, would reveal the 
power of that sympathy that swelled and trembled in the 
bosom of every hearer. Now this world is among the other 
worlds of creation what this single individual would be among 
the numerous inhabitants of the earth — a solitary example of 
suffering misfortune, concentrating all the attention and all the 
sympathy of others upon itself. 

It may be thought that the sufferings of fallen angels should 
form an exception to the generality of this remark. But it 
seems almost superfluous to dwell upon the difference between 
the condition of those ruined spirits of darkness, shut up in 
eternal night, and the unhappy posterity of Adam who, though 
seduced by their malicious art, are prisoners of hope, and ninny 
of them heirs of eternal life. There is certainly a point in the 
progress of depravity where pity is couverted into abhorrence, 
and all our sympathy for the suffering recoils at the hopeless 
and abandoned hardihood of the devoted sufferer. Where this 
point may be it is not for us to decide ; but of this we may be 
certain, that the devils at least have passed that point, and 
while their sufferings are intense, they are unnoticed and 
unpitied, too. So that for all the purposes of argument or 
illustration it is just the same as if their existence and their 
sufferings had never commenced, or were all unknown to the 
rest of the creation. The devils are shut out from the whole 
brotherhood of intelligent beings, and from all the sympathies 
belonging to it, by the malignancy of their hatred to all that 
is good or lovely in creation. Man still belongs to that great 
society of beings, fallen and polluted as he is. And the very 
frailty of his nature, and the depth of his misery, when con- 
nected with the hope of his amendment, excite a trembling 
interest in his welfare, and an anxious solicitude for his restora- 
tion, which may be likened to the feelings of an upright and 
virtuous man toward a licentious and ungodly brother, whose 



loo 



TRE AX GELS INTERESTED 



vices he abhors and whose wanderings he laments, while he 
prays and agonizes and hopes for his recovery. 

But besides the peculiarity of man's condition, so well 
calculated to excite curiosity and the deepest interest, there is 
something singular in the method of God's dealing toward 
him, which could not tail to engage the attention of angelic 
minds. When there wns war in heaven, and the haughty 
spirits of archangels rebelled against the government of God, 
the arm which had created was stretched out to subdue them. 
And those who were not contented with the happiness of 
heaven were immediately driven away into everlasting dark- 
ness. When man joined the standard of that dark rebellion, 
and with faculties more limited, and powers less sublime, defied 
the Omnipotent, and spurned his just authority, the power 
which was exerted to crush rebellious angels was employed to 
save unhappy man ; to repair the injury he had done himself ; 
to raise him from the ruins of the fail and exalt him to such 
a union and intercourse with God as in his unfallen state was 
nrobablv unattainable. This whole condition was extremelv 
singular. He was a prisdti|r of hope ; a condemned, but re- 
prieved rebel ; a sinner upon whom the penalty of sin was still 
unexecuted. The whole history of man was one continual 
wonder. The scenes were changed, and event succeeded event; 
but every new scene was stronger and more wonderful thru 
that which had preceded it. Empires rose and fell, cities were 
built and demolished. Armies met in the shock of battle, and 
the blood of thousands was poured upon the plain. The mighty 
men of earth contended for conquest and for crowns; the 
philosopher reasoned, the poet sang, the prophet swept his 
lyre with holy energy, and poured from his rapt soul the burn- 
ing language of inspiration; and all conspired to hasten on 
the accomplishment of God's purpose toward man — the great 
development of his wondrous plan. At last that hour arrived 
for which all other hours were made. And the angelic hosts 
beheld the Lord of life descending upon earth, lying in the 
manger, sojourning among men, dying upon the cross, going 
(town into the grave, nnd then arising and ascending into glory. 



IX MAX'S SALVATION. 



157 



Upon us the record of these events, all wonderful as they 
are, produces but a transient impression. We have heard them 
from our infancy. They form a part of our most common 
thoughts. The idea of a Saviour is always united with that of 
God, and the works of creation and redemption are associated 
in our minds a* the different exhibitions of the same glorious 
character, as wonderful in mercy and in love as lie is in 
Almighty power. But if we had stood among the angelic 
hosts and gazed with them upon the new-born creation — if we 
had wandered with them over all the universe of God and 
seen, as far as created eye may see, the immediate revelations of 
his glory, till the mind was overwhelmed with the view of his 
boundless perfections, and lost in that mighty field of contem- 
plation spread out before us- -if we had always had him present 
to our minds, arrayed in all the dazzling glories of his divinity, 
as the self-existent, eternal, unchangeable, almighty Jehovah, 
dwelling in light inaccessible and full of glory, reigning in 
heaven, and ruling over earth, establishing empires and crush- 
ing them at his pleasure, creating worlds and upholding them 
by his power — then we should feel indeed how wonderful, how 
singular, how passing strange, that condescension was. when 
the Eternal Son became the babe of Bethlehem, and God him- 
self was manifested in the Mesh. Great must have been that 
design which brought him down to earth, and well does it 
deserve the admiring scrutiny of men and angels. 

The method of God's administration upon earth is different 
from that which appears in heaven, or in hell, or in any world 
with which we are acquainted. In heaven all is love and hap- 
piness. In hell all is wrath and misery. Upon earth there is 
a mingled state of being and of character; and the administra- 
tion of the moral governor is accommodated to the condition 
of his subjects. It is this mixed state of existence, tins alter- 
nation of virtue and vice, of happiness and misery, which has 
so much perplexed the minds of thinking men, which has 
shaken the believer's faith, and confirmed the atheist in his 
folly; and it is this, we may suppose, which has attracted, 
in part, the attention of superior beings. The love which 



153 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



"bestows happiness on virtue, and the justice which inflicts mer- 
ited punishment on crime, are characteristics of Deity, insep- 
arable from every conception of his nature, and exhibited 
whenever there is vice to be punished and virtue to receive 
enjoyment. Such love and justice are simple qualities of a 
perfect mind, everywhere exhibited and easily understood. 
But the love which is exerted toward the sinner, the justice 
which falls on the head of a mediator, the love and justice 
united, which punish the crime but save the criminal, which 
gently chastise the offender that he may cease from his offence, 
which substitute the lamb when they cannot dispense with the 
sacrifice — such love and justice are displayed, as far as we 
know, only upon earth. 

When we remember, then, how anxiously the angels gaze on 
every new exhibition of the divine character— that heaven and 
earth, and all that them inhabit, the great universe itself, 
with all that it contains of sublime or beautiful, glorious or 
lovely, are only admired as exhibiting his character and mani- 
festing his glory — we cannot be surprised at the interest which 
angels feel in gazing on this wondrous exhibition, which has 
been given in these last times, through the plan of redemption, 
of the height and depth and length and breadth of that love 
of God which passeth understanding. 

The language of the original, which represents the angels as 
anxiously prying into the plan of redemption, seems to indicate 
that the very mysteriousness of that plan, the unfathomed and 
unfathomable wisdom contained therein, is one cause of their 
constant attention to it. The pleasure of discovering new 
truths, of whatever kind, is one often experienced and well 
understood among thinking men. And when, in addition to 
their novelty, the truths discovered are of a pleasing and ele- 
vating character, the satisfaction arising from the discovery is 
greatly increased. The ardor in the pursuit of knowledge is 
proportioned to the enjoyment we receive from it ; and such is 
the nature of the mind, that, when its powers are really excited 
in the investigation of truth, difficulties which would other- 
wise appear insuperable vanish before it ; and curiosity is 



IN MAX'S SALVATION". 159 

stimulated by the obscurities which would otherwise repress 
it. We might compare the anxiety of the angels to scrutinize 
the plan of redemption, to the solicitude with which an aspiring 
and indefatigable student pores over some massy volume where 
he knows are all the treasures of ancient wisdom, or some 
knotty problem which lies in the pathway of science, and whose 
solution leads on to a thousand unknown truths. How does he 
struggle with the obstacles in bis way, and summon all his 
powers to carry on the contest. Though often foiled, he never 
despairs ; he never doubts the existence of the truth he has 
not been able to discover, but returns repeatedly to the inves- 
tigation, till at last his efforts are crowned with complete 
success. So it may be with angelic minds. There may be, 
there are, mysteries to them, and we are taught in our text to 
believe they are diligently employed in scrutinizing that part 
of God's plan which to them appears mysterious. 

~Nor is it inconsistent with any rational view of the happiness 
of heaven to suppose that the inhabitants of that world feel, 
like ourselves, the desire of knowledge and the pleasure of 
acquiring information. The spirit is essentially and intensely 
active ; its home is in the midst of mighty thought and lofty 
contemplation, and there is a high-breathed pleasure in the 
very pursuit of knowledge and the victory over difficulties 
that cannot flow from any other source. It is the perfection 
and not the weakness of spiritual beings, that they long insa- 
tiably after knowledge, and that this longing is at once the 
source of their highest efforts and most exquisite enjoyments. 
I would not be understood as countenancing the opinion that 
all mysteries may be investigated and understood by either men 
or angels ; nor that it is either wise or proper to waste, in the 
contemplation of truths which are plainly incomprehensible, 
those faculties which are given for far different purposes. Yet 
if the knowledge of angels is not all intuitive, it must progress 
by repeated steps, and that which now seems mysterious may 
hereafter wear a different aspect. The gradual development 
of God's plan may cast new light upon his past administration, 
or the frequent contemplation of it, as developing and already 



IGO 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



developed, may open up new views of his holy character and 
ever blessed government. 

In the creation of the world his power and creative wisdom 
were wonderfully displayed ; in its redemption the same power 
and wisdom are displayed, united with a love and compassion, a 
tenderness and mercy wonderful and divine. In the heavens 
and the earth, in the sun, moon, and stars, we may see displayed, 
in everlasting characters, the existence and many of the attri- 
butes of God. But it is in his intelligent and moral creation 
that we see the brightest specimens of his creative wisdom ; 
and it is in his moral government that we find the most inter- 
esting subjects for thought and examination. How great is the 
wisdom of that scheme which offers life and happiness to man, 
we may learn from the folly of all other schemes devised by 
human ingenuity. All are self-contradictory or defective. On 
all, the difficulty presses with irresistible power, how shall jus- 
tice be satisfied and the sinner be saved ? In the Gospel, mercy 
and truth have met together ; righteousness and peace have 
kissed each other, and now God can be just, and the justifier of 
the ungodly who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. On the 
Gospel plan the sinner is saved from all his sins : the very 
method of salvation is a method of purification; and the voice 
which says, " thy sins be forgiven thee," says likewise, " go 
and sin no more." If the morning stars sang together and the 
sons of God shouted for joy, when the world was created, light 
was brought out of darkness, and from the confusion of chaos 
there arose a scene of smiling loveliness and beauty, well may 
the angels rejoice together, when by the same almighty power 
similar effects are produced in the moral world. Order and 
harmony, peace and happiness, spring forth from that chaos of 
warring elements, that abode of vice and misery, the depraved 
unregenerated heart of man. And if it be admitted that the liv- 
ing and immortal beings around us are of greater dignity and 
importance than the material world which we inhabit, then 
will the grandeur of the great plan of salvation appear iu its 
proper light, and the wisdom which devised and executed it, 
will be acknowledged as that which was hidden in Christ, from 



IN MAN'S SALVATION. 



161 



the foundation of the world ; and this scheme of condescend- 
ing mercy will he honored as that last great exhibition of him- 
i self, by which God designs to be known to his intelligent crea- 
tion, to which all his other works are tributary, and in which 
all finally meet. 

Let us observe now, First, What a view this subject gives us 
of the character and employments of angels and the happiness 
of heaven. 

The happiness of heaven does not consist in the passive re- 
ception of pleasure. In other parts of God's Word we are told 
that the angels are ministering spirits, swift to do God's will ; 
"that his ministers are a flame of fire." They are frequently 
spoken of as going on errands of kindness to men, and their 
very name of messenger indicates the activity of their engage- 
ments. They are said to have shouted for joy at the creation 
of the world, and still to feel a deep interest in the welfare of 
its inhabitants. From this we may fairly presume that they are 
a cquainted with the condition of the various portions of the 
universe, and are accustomed to employ their minds in observ- 
ing their situation, and as far as possible rendering them ser- 
vice. Let no indolent and useless man suppose that he could en- 
joy the society of heaven. All is life, activity, and feeling there, 
and his dull repose would be constantly disturbed by the zeal 
of its inhabitants. The cultivation and the exercise of benev- 
olent and kindly feelings, seems to be one of the chief employ- 
ments and most delightful duties of heaven. Let no man then, 
however lofty his intellect, or extensive his requirements, how- 
ever pressing or important his business may be — let no man, 
upon any pretence whatever, neglect the cultivation of benev- 
olent feelings. To weep with those that weep, and rejoice with 
those that rejoice, to sympathize readily and deeply with our fel- 
low-men under all the trials of this changing world, to deserve 
and to receive their sympathies in return, is a luxury which kings 
might envy, did they know its sweetness. Real benevolence 
of feeling.- is at once the strongest evidence and the loveliest 
ornament of a truly elevated mind. Let us learn, too, from the 
example of angels not to despise any of our fellow -men, how- 



162 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED 



ever weak in intellect, low in station, or degraded in vice. They 
sympathize with us in all our pollution. Shall not we do good 
to all our fellow-men whenever an opportunity occurs ? It 
cannot be improper here to remark how closely the truths ot 
divine revelation agree with the purest dictates of enlightened 
minds. The heathen Elysium and the Turkish paradise are 
represented as the abodes of sensual enjoyment or indolent ease ; 
but the heaven of the Bible is the home of the spirit, its pleasures 
are spiritual and pure, its employments are worthy an immor- 
tal nature, and constitute at once its duty and its happiness. 

Let us observe, in the Second place, the justice of God 
in the condemnation of the sinner. If no salvation had 
been offered to man, if no light had shone upon his darkness, 
no hope had beamed upon his ruin, if he had been left ignorant 
of his origin, his nature, and his destiny, and, thus groping his 
darkling way along the journey of life, had stumbled through 
inadvertence or wandered from the path, his misery would have 
excited the sympathies of all benevolent beings, and abhor- 
rence for his crimes would have been forgotten in pity for his 
sufferings. But light has come into the world, and men have 
loved darkness rather than light. "Mature with open volume 
stands " to instruct the ignorance of man, and the volume of 
God's great revelation has brought life and immortality to lighr. 
The dictates of reason have been forgotten amidst the turn alt 
of the passions. But the precepts of revelation have been 
heard sustaining its authority. The silent instruction which is 
given by the works of God, and which falls like the music of the 
spheres upon the mind prepared to hear it, has been unheeded 
amidst the bustle and agitation of life. But a voice has 
come from heaven, to arrest the attention of mankind ; and 
the monitor within, which no tyranny can awe and no neg- 
lect can silence, still is heard in the darkness of night and 
the stillness of retirement, bearing solemn witness to truth. 
Without the Bible, all would indeed be darkness ; and 
this miserable world of ours, as it wheels its annual round 
in the system with its sister planets, but separated far away 
from the moral system of the universe, might be compared to 



IN MAN'S SALVATION. 



163 



some stately vessel which the storm had separated from her com- 
panions, and, broken loose from her moorings, had cast, with 
all her precious cargo, in a dark night, on a tempestuous ocean, 
without a pilot to direct her course, or a twinkling star to guide 
her wanderings. But while all is darkness without and all is 
misery within, while she is tossed by the tempest and shattered 
by the billows, and the last hope is fast turning to despair, the 
eye which is directed to heaven beholds a star shining brightly 
through that darkness. It is the Star of Bethlehem ! pouring 
its own calm and heavenly radiance across those troubled 
waters and pointing to that heaven of eternal rest. Oh, who 
would not look to it as the star of hope, as the harbinger of 
peace, as the messenger of mercy ! 

But such is not man. That star has shone in vain. The Sun 
of Righteousness has risen to enlighten the world, but many 
have turned their backs upon his brightness, and, enjoying his 
reflected light, have boasted of the acuteness of their natural 
vision, and denied the existence of the great luminary they re- 
fuse to see. Oh, how shall they escape, who reject this offered 
illumination, and love their darkness, with all its misery, better 
than the light and joy and peace of the Gospel ! The scheme 
of salvation which has been offered to men is such as it became 
God to reveal and man to accept. There are those indeed 
among our dying race, who think it wholly unworthy of their 
serious attention, who neither deign to study its character or 
investigate its evidences. But how shall they excuse their folly 
or their pride, who despise the revelation that God has given, 
and angels desire to look into — a revelation which lie has 
stamped with his own broad seal of authenticity, and which 
they have delighted to study, as the most glorious exhibition 
of his character ? And how shall the sinner excuse his heed- 
less indifference about his own salvation, when the angels of 
heaven are so deeply concerned in the happiness of man ? It 
surely aggravates his guilt and must add awful horror to his 
condemnation — that his sins have been committed in spite of 
the warnings and entreaties and sympathies of the highest and 
holiest beings in the universe — that he has cast away from 



164 



THE ANGELS INTERESTED, ETC. 



him his brightest hopes and trampled under foot his lofty 
destinies. 

It too often happens that we have to observe among our fel- 
low-men a species of conduct which will serve to illustrate our 
argument. We often see a young man, bright in promise and 
buoyant in hope, hastening at the commencement of life into 
those paths of dissipation and folly which destroy alike his 
present happiness and future prospect. And while the mind 
contemplates with pain the melancholy wreck of what he was, 
and turns away in disgust from the thought of what he is, does 
it not serve to aggravate his guilt, when we remember, how he 
disregarded a father's warning and a mother's prayers, how he 
destroyed the happiness of a family whose happiness was bound 
up in him, how he proved false to all the bright hopes and fair 
expectations of his friends, to his own early promise and high 
capabilities ! 

Precisely analogous to this is the condition of man. Pos- 
sessing large capacities for happiness and moral improvement, 
the sympathies of God and angels are enlisted in his favor. 
Eternal happiness is presented for his acceptance, and eternal 
misery is the awful punishment of his guilt. All heaven is 
anxious for his welfare. God himself gives his Son for his sal- 
vation; the angels are ministering spirits, that 'minister unto 
him, and with trembling solicitude observe every step of his 
career. All hell is awake and smiles with horrible delight at 
the prospect of his ruin. He is placed, as it were, upon an ele- 
vated theatre — the object of continued observation to invisible 
and innumerable beings. With every thing to stimulate him 
to duty, should he prove insensible to his great responsibili- 
ties, should he forget his rational and immortal nature, and 
fall from the high station which God designed him to occupy, 
great must be the fall thereof, and upon his own head the guilt 
of his own destruction. 



V. 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOR ISRAEL, AND ITS LESSONS. 



Rom. ix. 1-5. — I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also 
bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and 
continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed 
from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh : who are 
Israelites; to whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the cove- 
nants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises ; 
whose are the fathers, and of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ 
came, who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen. 



The preceding chapter terminates the apostle's discussion 
of the great doctrine of justification by faith. He had. clearly 
proven, that there could be no justification by works, because 
Jews and Gentiles were both concluded under sin, the Gentile 
having disregarded the dictates of conscience, the law written 
on their hearts, and closed their eyes against the light which 
beams so brightly from God's glorious works ; while the Jews 
had sinned against the clearer light of revelation, and broken 
even the law of Moses, by which they expected to be saved. 
If, therefore, there be any method of salvation for man, the 
apostle most conclusively argues, it must be one, not of man's 
devising, nor depending on human merit, but one devised by 
God for our benefit, and procured by the merits of another. 
This he calls " God's method of justification, through faith in 
Jesus Christ," 

Now, this whole method of justification, through the merits 
of another, and without the deeds of the law — justification 
offered freely alike to Gentile and Jew, the circumcision and 
the un circumcision — was a perfect novelty to the un sanctified 
Jew, and a thousand objections would immediately spring up 



166 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOR ISRAEL, 



in his mind against a doctrine so adverse to his prejudices as a 
Jew, so humbling to his pride as a man. It was a doctrine 
which, superseding the sacrifices of the law, and promising 
salvation without obedience to its ritual, seemed blasphemy 
against Moses and the prophets. Offering salvation to the 
Gentiles, many of whom believed, and denouncing eternal per- 
dition against the Jews, most of whom rejected its proffered 
blessings, it seemed to reverse the whole order of God's gra- 
cious dispensations, and to wrest from the children of Abraham 
the glorious privileges promised to their father, merely that 
they might be dispensed with impious hands to the detested 
Gentiles ; thus making void the faithfulness of God, and wast- 
ing upon dogs the children's bread. " What advantage, then," 
he would indignantly exclaim, "what advantage hath the 
Jew? and what profit is there in circumcision?" Shall the 
unbelief of man make void the faithfulness of God? 

The apostle glances at these various objections as he passes 
on, but leaves the full consideration of them all, and the awful 
consequences connected with them to the 9th chapter, where 
he announces God's final rejection of the Jews for unbelief, 
and shows that all the promises, on which they so securely de- 
pended, were made to the spiritual, and not to the natural, 
seed of Abraham — that the same sovereignty which chose at 
first, might now, without injustice, reject them, and that 
this terrible rejection had been often predicted by the holy 
prophets. 

In approaching this awful and distressing subject, the 
apostle exhibits all that tenderness of heart, and all that 
knowledge of human character, for which he is elsewhere so 
remarkable. In the former part of the Epistle, he has em- 
ployed all the stores of his varied erudition, and all the powers 
of his vigorous mind, to combat their prejudices and refute 
their objections. But here all the deep sensibilities of his 
noble and affectionate nature burst forth in a torrent of the 
most kind and affecting expressions. Whatever obscurity may 
involve one or two expressions in this celebrated passage, and 
however critics may differ in their interpretation, it is easy to 



AND ITS LESSONS. 



167 



understand the general tenor of the whole, and to sympathize 
with the apostle's overwhelming emotions. 

He was about to announce to them the disappointment of all 
their dearest hopes, the overthrow of all their most fondly- 
cherished expectations, as he looked forward to the day when 
Jerusalem should be laid in heaps, when God's holy temple 
should be defiled with impious hands, and the hundred thou- 
sand of that deluded people should perish by the invader's 
sword. And as he remembered that they were bone of his bone 
and flesh of his flesh, the children of Abraham, the chosen 
people, honored of God to be the depositaries of his religion, 
and the nation from whom his own Son sprang, would not all 
the feelings of the man and the Christian combine to awaken 
emotions of unutterable sorrow ? He knew that they viewed 
him as an enemy, because he had told them the truth, had ad- 
vocated the equal participation by the Gentiles of the blessings 
of salvation, and had professed to be sent of God, especially to 
the Gentiles. He, therefore, most solemnly assures them, as a 
Christian man whose conscience was enlightened by the Holy 
Ghost, that so far from taking pleasure in announcing the 
awful sentence of God against them, it filled him with per- 
petual grief; that, so far from cherishing any hostility against 
his people on account of their ill treatment, or his own peculiar 
vocation to the Gentile world, he could wish himself accursed 
from Christ, as our translation expresses it, or as it might be 
rendered, he could wish that he had, if consistent with God's 
will, been "set apart" by Christ, for the service of the Jews, 
as Peter was, instead of the Gentiles. It was not his want of 
affection for them, nor his desire to exalt the Gentiles above 
them, but the wise and sovereign determination of God, which 
led him to turn his attention to those who were lying in dark- 
ness and the shadow of death. 

It has been already suggested that learned men have been 
much divided in the interpretation of some parts of this pas- 
sage. In the dry details of verbal criticism, it can scarcely be 
expected that a promiscuous assembly should feel much in- 
terest, or from it derive much profit. I shnll not therefore de- 



168 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOR ISRAEL, 



lay you by discussing, or even mentioning, the various opinions 
respecting the expressions translated, " I could wish that my- 
self were accursed from Christ." I will only allude to that 
which is most satisfactory to my own mind, and the reasons for 
adopting which may be easily understood, even by those not 
acquainted with the original. 

Men's feelings are as various as their opinions, and therefore 
I cannot be certain that 1 express the feelings of others, as well- 
as my own, in saying, that the idea conveyed in our authorized 
translation appears extremely revolting and unnatural. It 
seems impossible, if it were even right, and wrong even if it 
were possible, to choose, on any conditions, to be accursed from 
Christ, and banished from his presence forever. We may 
separate, in imagination, the sufferings of the damned from 
burning hostility against God, but they are never separated in 
fact, and he who chooses hell for his residence, in reality, and 
not merely in imagination, chooses not only the darkness and 
the fire and the worm that never dies, but the sin, the pollu- 
tion, the utter alienation from God and daring rebellion against 
his authority, which are the true spirit of the lost and the 
necessary qualification for their society. If then the passage 
will bear a different interpretation, one which is consistent 
with the context and perfectly natural, while it is attended 
with no difficulty, arising from the constitution of man's na- 
ture, or the truths elsewhere revealed, or the duties elsewhere 
inculcated, in the Bible, we need not hesitate to adopt it ; re- 
membering, that in inquiries of this nature, probability must 
be our guide, and the certainty of absolute conviction is rarely 
attainable. 

In the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, the same word 
which is sometimes translated " accursed " or " cursed," means 
originally " separated," " set apart " for any purpose. Thus in 
Joshua, vii. l,the spoils were called " accursed," because they 
were set apart for God, devoted to his service, and the living 
animals among them destined to death. So in Leviticus, xxvii. 
28, it is said, " every devoted thing," every anathema, as it is 
in the Greek version, the very word used in the passage before 



AND ITS LESSONS. 



us, and in Joshua vii. 1, "is most holy unto the Lord." Here 
the same word, which in Joshua and in Romans is rendered 
" accursed," is said to be " most holy ;" because holiness, as we 
all know, means separation, being set apart for the service of 
God. Now in this same chapter of Leviticus there are two 
words, each of which is employed to express this idea of separa- 
tion, devotion to God, and each of these words is found likewise 
applied to St. Paul in the New Testament. The latter is applied 
undoubtedly to St. Paul for the purpose of expressing the fact 
of his being set apart to the preaching of the Gospel. In Acts 
xiii. 2, where Barnabas and Paul were set apart for their work 
and in Galatians, i. 15, where St. Paul informs us, that he was 
set apart from his mother's womb, and called by the grace of 
God ; and here in the ninth chapter of Romans, we find the 
other applied to the same apostle. If the words, when used in 
the Old Testament in relation to one subject, are supposed to 
have the same meaning, why may they not be similarly trans- 
lated when applied in the New Testament to another subject? 
If then the word here translated "accursed" be rendered 
"set apart," all difficulty and obscurity will be removed, and 
we see at once how natural is the assurance, which the apostle 
gives his brethren, that it was not his own choice, but the 
command of God, which sent him to the heathen ; and that if 
left to himself, he would have chosen rather " to be set apart 
by Christ," the great head of the church, for the benefit of the 
Jews, his brethren according to the flesh. 

The circumstances which the apostle afterward enumerates, 
in the fourth verse, are probably designed, in part, to convince 
the Jews, that he was not insensible to all those tender and 
glorious recollections which were inseparably connected with 
the name of Jerusalem, and the imperishable heritage of Ja- 
cob's children ; and, perhaps in part, to show, that he as will- 
ingly acknowledged and appreciated, as highly as any other, 
the distinguished favors bestowed upon them from on high. 
Hence he dwells with emphasis upon the titles they possessed 
and the privileges they enjoyed. They were Israelites,, the de- 
scendants of Jacob, called by his name. " who as a prince had 



170 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOR ISRAEL, 



power with God and prevailed they were adopted into the 
family of God and called his children, as he said to Pharaoh, 
Exodus, iv. 22, 23, "Israel is my son, even my first-born: let 
my son go, that he may serve me," and Jeremiah, xxxi. 9, " I 
a ma father to Israel, and Ephraim is my first-born." They 
possessed the glory likewise, the visible manifestation of God's 
presence, in the Shekinah. To them belonged the covenants 
made at various times with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; to them 
alone, of all the nations, had God condescended to give a written 
law, by the hand of Moses. On them had he bestowed a form 
of religious service which was acceptable to him, while others 
were left in darkness and often sinned most in their most solemn 
attempts to serve him. To them all the promises were given ; 
to them belonged the fathers of the Jewish nation, those holy 
men who enjoyed such intimate intercourse with God, that 
they were called his friends. But above all it was in the Jew- 
ish nation that the Saviour first appeared, and of a Jewish 
virgin he condescended to be born. These glorious distinctions 
the apostle by no means denied to the Jewish people. Nay, 
he rejoiced in them himself, and thought it "much advantage, 
every way, to be born a Jew." But the height to which they 
were exalted only made him shudder the more at the prospect 
of their frightful fall. They had long rejoiced in the beams 
of God's cheering favor, and were soon to sink into a ray- 
less, starless, hopeless night. 

It is almost incredible how much learning and ingenuity have 
been unprofitably exhausted in the effort to avoid the evidence 
contained in the fifth verse for the real and underived divinity 
of our blessed Saviour. He is there called, " God over all, 
blessed forever." 

It is obvious to the least observant reader that when we 
are told, in the first clause of the verse, that Christ came 
of the fathers according to the flesh, we naturally expect to 
hear, in the succeeding clause, that he was not of the fathers in 
some other respect. This part of the antithesis is naturally 
supplied, when we are told, that he is " God over all, blessed 
forever." This expression coincides exactly, both in the origi- 



AND ITS LESSONS. 



171 



nal and in the English translation, with, the " supreme God." 
Plenee we have a complete refutation here, did not its own in- 
trinsic absurdity refute it, of the Arian hypothesis, which rep- 
resents our Saviour as an inferior deity, as divine yet not very 
God. There we are informed that he is not only God, but 
supreme God, as we are told by the apostle John, " this is the 
true God and everlasting life." 

The passage of God's Word to which our thoughts have been 
directed may suggest several profitable reflections. First, We 
may learn from the example of St. Paul the amiable and lovely 
nature of true Christian principle. 

In whatever condition we contemplate the great apostle of the 
Gentiles, he seems peculiarly calculated to call forth our admi- 
ration. While standing before King Agrippa, and boldly, 
though in chains, proclaiming the truth of the Gospel he had 
espoused, we cannot but sympathize with the manly courage 
and intellectual energy that could meet unmoved the dangers 
that environed him, and admire the power of that simple but 
pointed eloquence w T hich made the dissolute monarch exclaim, 
" Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." When stand- 
ing on Mars' Hill, surrounded by a crowd of cavilling philoso- 
phers and superstitious people, we cannot but observe the 
adroit and dexterous skill with which he preached the Gospel 
from a text furnished by a heathen altar ; and, beginning from 
the " unknown God" whom they blindly worshipped, made 
known that great and spiritual Jehovah, who has made all the 
nations, and in whom we " live and move and have our being." 
But never does he appear in a more engaging or attractive 
light, than when, pouring out his lamentations over his blinded 
countrymen, he endeavors gently to reveal to them the coming 
ruin, soothing their wounded pride by the recollection of their 
ancestral glory, and disarming their inveterate prejudices by 
the ardor of his overflowing affection. 

How T different from the conduct of many men of distinguished 
talents, who seem to suppose that the possession of uncommon 
powers, and the performance of extraordinary services, releases 
them from all obligation to cultivate those gentler social vir- 



172 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOB, ISRAEL, 



tues which communicate a winning gracefulness to Christian 
character, and shine with a lovelier radiance when harmo- 
niously blended with the learning that commands our respect 
or the genius that excites our admiration. How different, too, 
from the spirit of those who, in rude and unfeeling language, 
thunder forth their denunciations against the sinner, not re- 
membering that we all are involved in the like condemnation, for- 
getting the tender lamentations of St. Paul over his blinded 
countrymen, and the example of Him — Paul's superior and his 
Master — who, as he gazed upon Jerusalem, that cruel city, reek- 
ing with the blood of murdered prophets, and then thirsting 
for his own, wept at the spectacle of their present thoughtless- 
ness and. the prospect of their approaching doom. Let us, my 
Christian friends, mingle tenderness with efforts to save dying 
men around us. Let the tears of our compassion water the 
seed that we sow. The cloud that darkly lowers and thunders 
loudly may pass over our heads and leave no memorial behind 
it but the scathed and shattered trunk which the lightning- 
hath riven in its course. It is the gentle shower, which distils 
upon hill and valley, on the green grass and cultivated field, 
that causes man's heart to rejoice with gladness, and cheers the 
wearied husbandman with the prospect of an abundant har- 
vest to reward his daily toil. 

Second, The rejection of the Jews from being the people of 
God is an awful subject, full of terror, of warning, and instruc- 
tion. The apostle could not approach the subject without stop- 
ping to pour forth his lamentations. How are the mighty 
fallen, how is the most fine gold become dim ! Jerusalem, the 
city of our God, the mother of the faithful, Mount Zion, beau- 
tiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is as when God 
overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah! 

They were the church of God, his chosen and peculiar 
people. But the sovereignty which chose them at first had de- 
termined to reject them for their sins. In vain might they 
plead their -former privileges ; these only aggravated their con- 
demnation. Much had been given them, and of them much 
was required. They possessed the law, but this they had vio- 



AND ITS LESSONS. 



173 



lated. They had the ordinances of God's service, but these they 
had so polluted by their hypocrisy that they were hateful in 
his sight : since we hear him saying, in the first chapter of 
Isaiah, " To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices 
unto me, saith the Lord, I am full, satiated with the burnt offer- 
ings of lambs and the fat of fed. beasts. Bring no more vain 
oblations. Incense is an abomination unto me. It is iniquity, 
even the solemn meeting !" They had been adopted, into his 
family, and obtained the endearing name of children ; but they 
were wayward and disobedient children. " I have nourished 
and brought up children, saith the Lord, and they have re- 
belled against me." He was their king, but they had sought 
other lords to have dominion over them. Prophets had j>ro- 
claimed God's truth, among them, but the prophets they had 
put to death ; and when the last messenger from heaven came 
down among them, him they had taken and with cruel hands 
had crucified and slain. Thus every privilege which they could 
plead as evidence of God's former love only established more 
incontrovertibly the certainty of his present wrath. The good- 
ness of God had not led them to repentance, and the only al- 
ternative remaining was, that they had been treasuring up 
wrath against the day of wrath. Their crimes had been accu- 
mulating for centuries, till the rejection of the Saviour sealed 
their ruin ; and the wrath which had been so long gathering 
above their heads was at last poured upon them to the 
uttermos t t. 

We have said, that much instruction may be derived from 
the rejection of the Jews. We see here that the sovereignty 
of God, however mysterious to us in its nature, is so far in- 
telligible in its operations that it never protects sin. The 
Jews were an elect people, and yet they were cut off for un- 
belief. If then any of us be trusting that we were once the 
people of God, and therefore will always belong to that fa- 
vored company, while we continue in sin, we are deceived. 
Let it be never so certain, that you are one of God's elect, yet 
it cannot be more certain than the truth, that if you continue 
in your sins, where God and Christ are you can never come. 



174 



PAUL'S ZEAL FOR ISRAEL, 



Let the formal and heartless professor of religion then take 
warning from the rejection of the Jews. Remember that 
thou art only a Gentile, and not of the true olive-tree. If then 
the true olive branches were broken oil* " because of unbelief 
they were broken off, and thou standest by faith ; be not high- 
minded but fear." The Lord's jealousy burnetii hottest nearest 
to his throne. He cannot be deceived, he will not be mocked. 
" To the wicked, God saith, What hast thou to do, to declare 
my statutes, or that thou should st take my covenants in thy 
mouth ?" Thy services are all an abomination, thy prayers are 
mockery, thine outward profession is hateful in his sight. 
Thou movest amidst Christians, as if a dead and putrid corpse 
should rise from its grave, and stalk forth amidst living men, 
only the more revolting for its human form, and its horrid 
mimicry of real life. 

The church of God, as a whole and in all its parts, may well 
take warning from God's dealings with his ancient people. God 
will not endure corruption in his church. He will hide his face. 
He will abandon her to her enemies, and if, after many reproofs, 
she shall still remain unamended, he will give her up forever. 
Say not, "The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the 
temple of the Lord are we." God can erect another temple, 
and call another people, who will worship him more spiritually, 
and serve him more faithfully. " Though thou wert the signet 
on his right hand," as was said of Coniah, the son of Jehoiakim, 
" though thou wert the signet on his right hand, yet he would 
pluck thee thence." Say not, What will become of the glory of 
the Lord. He can promote his glory in your condemnation, as 
well as in your salvation. " He hath made even the wicked, 
against the day of his power." How could religion exist if 
Jerusalem were destroyed ? might the Jew reason. Will not 
the heathen triumph ? Yes, but in the midst of their triumph 
God is raising up a people to serve him, from among their own 
families and friends. The Roman eagle is soaring high over 
Jerusalem. The Roman torch is firing its sacred temple, and, 
as the conflagration rapidly extends, and the broad sheets of 
flame burst from its dizzy summit, and curl upward to the 



AND ITS LESSONS. 175 

sky, terribly magnificent, the shout of pagan triumph is heard, 
above the clash of armor and the shrieks of the dying, to pro- 
claim that the God of Abraham has lost his power to save. 
"But why do the heathen rage, and the Gentiles imagine a vain 
thing. He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh, the Almighty 
shall hold them in derision." She that persecuted the prophets 
is fallen, and prophecy is fulfilled ; she that rejected the Saviour 
is in ruins, and thus we know that the son of man has come 
to establish his kingdom upon earth ; a kingdom which shall 
extend beyond the limits of the Roman empire, and take in all 
nations. The mistress of the world shall soon own his mild 
dominion, and on the walls of the seven-hilled city shall be 
planted the standard of the cross. The temple hath fallen, 
within whose narrow walls the worshippers of a single nation 
were wont to pay their vows, and present their offerings ; but an- 
other has risen more glorious far, whose broad foundation is the 
great globe itself, whose garniture is the handy-work of God, 
and within whose spacious walls are gathered the unnumbered 
millions of God's elect, from every nation under heaven, bring- 
ing incense and a pure offering, a holy and a spiritual worship, 
approaching to the throne of the majesty on high, not with the 
blood of bulls and goats, but with the precious blood of the 
Son of God. 



VI. 

THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



Acts, xvi. 30. — " Sirs, What must I do to be saved ?" 



About the year of our Lord 53 or 54, two obscure, unknown 
travellers arrived at Philippi, one of the principal cities of Ma- 
cedonia. They had travelled far. Having embarked at Antioch 
in Syria, and passed by a circuitous route over sea and land, they 
had reached, at length, this celebrated city, where the Asiatic 
foreigners for the first time placed their feet on European soil. 
By tracing their course over the map," you will find that their 
route lay through many of the scenes rendered familiar to our 
boyhood by the history and fables of antiquity — the soft waters 
of the iEgean, the mild climate of the East, along the volup- 
tuous shores of Asia Minor, and amidst the fertile and luxu- 
rious islands of the adjacent sea — over countries where the 
mighty conquerors of old fought their battles, and won their 
renown, and the shadowy heroes of an earlier and fabulous age 
performed their prodigies of valor. And their fortunes were 
as various, and changed as rapidly as the scenes through which 
they passed. At one time hooted by the rabble, at another 
caressed by the great; now worshipped as deities, now 
hissed and stoned by vagabonds ; now assaulted by the popu- 
lace with the insane fury of a fanatical mob ; now seized by 
magistrates as disturbers of the peace, rudely rebuked, cruelly 
scourged, condemned, imprisoned. And now these friendless 
wanderers, safe from the dangers of the sea and the fury of 
persecutors, " from the noise of the waves and the tumult of the 
people," have reached a strange city on another continent. Is 
it that they may seek an end to their wanderings, find repose 



THE QUESTION" AND ITS ANSWER. 



177 



from labors, refuge from sufferings and foes ? Ah, if that had 
been .their object, Christian friends, what would you and I now 
have been? The history of the world would probably have 
been reversed, and the dark night of idolatrous superstition 
still have rested on the nations. 

Philippi had received, before, many a distinguished, many a 
royal visitant. Repaired and beautified by Philip of Macedon, 
colonized subsequently by Julius Caesar, rendered famous above 
all by that memorable battle in which Rome's liberties re- 
ceived their last death-blow from her own children, and the 
hand of Brutus that struck down the tyrant in the capitoi, was 
turned in despair upon himself. But signalized as she was by 
great events and illustrious visitors, it may be doubted, whether, 
of all the mighty received within her walls — from the youthful 
prince of Macedon to that prototype of all demagogues and ty- 
rants, the wily and supple Csesar, and that last relic of Roman 
virtue and greatness, the stern incorruptible Brutus — there 
had ever approached a man who could bear comparison with 
that unknown Jew, with bald head and eagle eye and diminu- 
tive frame, who passed, at first unnoticed, along the streets of 
Philippi. There is we grant no universal test of greatness. But 
if we measure the compass of this man's mind by the largeness 
of his views or the elevation of his character, by the vastness 
of his designs or their magnificent accomj^lishment, by the 
benefits he conferred upon mankind or the influence he has 
wielded over the opinions and destiny of the race through suc- 
cessive countries and in distant lands ; whatever it may be that 
we most admire, whether dazzling splendor of bold and vigorous 
imagery, or burning ardor of deep and intense emotion, or the 
inexorable logic of close and compact reasoning, or all these 
harmoniously combined and wielded by a manly eloquence, 
which, whether we judge from the effects produced, or speci- 
mens still remaining, must be considered almost perfect in its 
kind ; in whatever light we may vieW: the apostle, he must be 
acknowledged to possess all the distinguishing attributes of 
real greatness. 

Oh, ye enthusiastic admirers of human greatness, who fall 

8* 



178 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



down in thoughtless adoration before it, when its record is 
blood, and its monuments pyramids of human skulls ; ye wor- 
shippers of the great manslayers of the world, who wail and 
shriek over the battle-field, and then erect an altar to the 
demon of the fight — come, behold a man, in genius as brilliant, 
as rich in accomplishments, far more comprehensive in his 
schemes, who, to splendor of intellect, added the sublimity of 
moral excellence ; grasp, if you can, the stupendous plan that 
filled and expanded his soul — nothing less than to revolu- 
tionize the whole moral and social condition of mankind, 
and to send abroad the spirit of a new life through all its fam- 
ilies. Follow him, as he speeds his way on this amazing er- 
rand, passing from city to city, from land to land, meeting re- 
proach, derision, persecution, all unmoved, perilling his life by 
sea and land, baring his bosom to the storm, his back to the 
scourge, offering his limbs to fetters, his body to the cross, and 
after he had fought for years the battles of mankind, and subju- 
gated whole nations to the truth, going down to the grave with 
the shout of victory on his tongue ; a victory stained by no hu- 
man blood except his own, and leaving a name revered through 
successive generations, by millions who never heard the name of 
Ca3sar, or of Alexander, with a glory ever widening and bright- 
ening, as the progress of civilization and religion increases the 
numbers of those who can understand and appreciate real 
greatness of the highest order. 

Such was the man that lay that night in chains at Philippi, 
thrust away into the innermost prison, in the darkest dungeon, 
with the vilest culprits, his feet pinned to the floor, his back 
gashed with wounds by the lead of the merciless scourge. Did 
he repine at his condition, rail at the ingratitude and wicked- 
ness of men, and sadly abandon his high mission ? Far other- 
wise. At midnight the prisoners hear strange sounds for that 
prison-house, not a voice of wailing or blasphemy, but glad 
praises of the Most High ; and soon far other sounds shall burst 
upon their ears, for the God of hosts has heard the prayer of his 
servants, and sent his angel to relieve them; and the earth 
trembles at his approach, the prison walls totter, the doors fly 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



179 



open, fetters burst loose. Well might the agitated jailer ex- 
claim, amid these manifestations of the presence and power of 
the Almighty, " What must I do to be saved ?" 

Startled at midnight from his slumbers, by these fearful in- 
dications of the present and angry God, he springs forth pale 
and trembling from his couch, and, falling at the feet of the 
apostles, earnestly exclaims, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved ?" 
Never did there fall from human lips a more solemn or impor- 
tant question ; never burst from agonized bosom of man, rent 
by anxious and conflicting emotions, inquiry of more fearful 
and tremendous import. Indeed, it is the question of questions, 
the great question for every man that has a soul to be saved 
or lost. ' It is a question which only man can ask and answer. 
Brutes have no souls to save. Angels are already saved. Dev- 
ils are already damned. It must be answered soon ; or it 
will be answered too late, by the last trumpet, by the wailings 
of the damned, amidst the fire of Tophet, the shrieks, impre- 
cations, and blasphemies of lost spirits. To be honestly asked, 
deeply, solemnly pondered, profoundly studied, faithfully, affec- 
tionately answered — oh, well might the loftiest intellect of man 
turn aside from all human speculations," and gather up its 
brightened and invigorated powers, and concentrate all in one 
burning focus on this high question, the question of transcend- 
ent and immeasurable interest. To comprehend it, if possible, 
in all its bearings, in all its height, length, breadth, and depth, 
and urge it home upon dying sinners with all the solemn fervor 
of one himself sweeping along with them to judgment, with 
prayers and entreaties and many tears, is the duty of every 
minister of God. For of all the innumerable questions which, 
from the foundation of the world, have agitated the minds of 
men, and called forth the mightiest energies and fiercest con- 
flicts in the senate and the field, there is none so vast in its 
grandeur and importance, there is none which sweeps over so 
boundless a field of thought, involves such mighty interests, is 
followed by such stupendous consequences, bears with it such 
appalling responsibilities, and so appeals to the hopes and fear3 
of every erring and dying man . 



ISO 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



For, remember it is the salvation of the soul. And to you I 
appeal, O man most steeped in sensuality and worldliness, 
most maddened with love of money or of honor, if only one 
gleam of rationality remains ! I ask of you, if in the whole 
circle of human interests, the whole compass of human thought, 
there can be any thing to be compared with this? What 
questions and interests on which statesmen debate, and heroes 
fight, and philosophers reason, can be compared with this ? 
Suppose all for which they contend granted you, that the glory 
of all combined rested on you, the laurels of a hundred victo- 
ries on your head, the sceptre of universal empire in your hand, 
the splendor of exalted genius and learning around you, applause 
attending your steps, everywhere the mysteries of nature un- 
veiled, all knowledge yours — what will all avail if your soul 
be not saved ? If the wrath of God hang darkly over you, 
what are the smiles of man, of millions? Of what avail are 
those large capacities, rich endowments, mighty powers of 
thought and feeling, if they be only made fitter subjects of 
condemnation, mightier piles for eternal burning? And now 
permit me to warn you, that the awful probability is, your 
soul will be lost ; that it is already in imminent peril, and 
chiefly from insensibility. 

But perhaps your reply to all this will be, that you see no 
danger ! We seize your own objection, and tell you that this 
insensibility to the danger is the most fearful token of your 
coming damnation. Something must be done, and you are 
doing nothing, and will do nothing. If the Gospel be hid, it 
is hid to those who are lost. Heaven is a prize for which we 
must run, a crown for which we must fight, and yet you stand 
idly indolent all the day long. This deadly insensibility is the 
worst symptom. Could the physician rouse the patient from 
that lethargy, he were safe. But that sleep is the sleep of 
death. Could we but waken you to a sense of your misery and 
ruin, there were some hope. But all our efforts are vain : 
Sabbath after Sabbath, month after month, you sit in God's 
house, beneath warnings and invitations, and heed not. All 
the interes's of immortality are at stake; life is wearing away, 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 181 

death hurrying on, judgment just at hand; yet all is safe with 
you. We tell you of an angry God, of a fiery perdition, of 
endless torments, and you sit as if these were an idle tale. 
Nay, as if to add insult to past sin, you come into God's own 
house to brave his anger. Did you see the physician turn 
mournfully away from that dying patient? He is sinking into 
delirium, and dreams that all is safe. Living in the govern- 
ment of a holy God, and habitually sinning — yet safe ; feeding 
on his bounty, and spurning his hand — yet safe ; his eye fixed 
on you, his presence around you — yet safe ; his sword sus- 
pended over you, judgment pronounced, denunciation uttered — 
jet safe ; his power pledged — yet safe. Ah ! young man, that 
flowery path is dangerous. It leads to death. But ah ! the 
sinner will be safe when the bolts of his prison-house have shut 
him in; will be safe, where no Christians annoy; safe where 
no Spirit, no Gospel, no hope intrudes ; and when he shall be 
lodged there, damned spirits shall raise their shout of exulta- 
tion, and say safe, safe, forever safe ! Oh ! horrible safety ! 

But who is he that stands before us there, amidst the solemn 
stillness of this midnight hour; with these words of anguish 
on his lips, and this uiisi3eakable terror in his heart. We have 
not the story of his life, nor the record of his death. His birth 
and burial, lineage, station, and fortunes, family, friends, hopes, 
fears, enjoyments, sufferings, disasters, successes, are alike un- 
known. Of all that he thought, felt, purposed, desired, or 
achieved, there is no memorial. What are all these in the 
estimate of the Almighty ? Only a dim and shadowy form, is 
seen rising above the waste of ages. A mysterious voice is 
heard amidst the silence of centuries. It is the form and voice 
of a man like ourselves, with a guilty conscience and a deathless 
spirit, and all the fearful elements of our fallen but immortal 
nature, crying out, in the agony of his soul, " What must I do 
to be saved ?" 

Never did more important question burst from lips of man, 
never did question receive a more direct, simple, or satisfactory 
reply, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved." You can do nothing of yourselves, can make no at< ne- 



182 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



ment for past sin, work no deliverance from its future power. 
Salvation is not an achievement but a gift, not of works but 
of grace, offered freely for your acceptance, not to be pur- 
chased by your merit. Christ is our justification, and Christ 
our sanctification ; Christ without and Christ within us. Christ 
without, the object of our adoring love, becoming, in that very 
act of believing adoration, the Christ within, "the hope of 
glory." The Christ without, removing the guilt of sin ; the 
Christ within, subduing by his presence its controlling power, 
and freeing us from its pollution. 

Christ is the light of the world. Would st thou be saved 
from the darkness of spiritual death? Let the eye of faith be 
opened to receive that light ; let day dawn, and the day-star 
arise upon thy soul, and that midnight blackness shall vanish 
away. It needs no will, no agency, no work of thine to give 
it efficacy. It works by its own inherent energy, and seeks 
no aid from man. Let but the eye of faith be open to receive 
it, and by its own mysterious power and adaptation to thy 
nature, the grandeur and glory of a universe, before invisible, 
shall burst in all their glad, living reality upon thee. 

Christ is the bread of heaven. No work or effort of thine 
own will give thee nourishment, or add vital power to this 
food. Let it only be received within thy system; it will blend 
with all the elements of thy being ; become mysteriously part 
and portion of thyself; mingle with the whole flowing circula- 
tion ; reach each part and function, and be found a real living 
power in them all. 

Christ is the great physician and sovereign remedy for the 
disease of sin. "What shall you do to be saved from this deadly 
malady ? ISTo power, will, effort of thine own ; no spasmodic 
agitation of all the elements within thee, would give it healing 
efficacy. It works by an efficacy all its own. Let it be re- 
ceived within thee ; each diseased action is arrested ; each sus- 
pended function restored; the warm blood flows in glad cur- 
rents through every vein and artery, and from each gland and 
duct and capillary vessel, through ten thousand channels, is 
distilled perpetually a nameless joy. 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



183 



Now faith is the " open eye ;" not the object, nor the light 
which reveals the object, but the avenue through which light 
streams in upon the soul. It does not create light or objects ; 
yet were the avenue closed, both would for us be as though 
they existed not. Hence it has all the mystery of a new crea- 
tion, as, when the blind man first beholds the light of day, a 
new universe springs into existence all around him. 

Faith is neither food that nourishes, nor the remedy that 
heals, but only the organ that receives them both, and brings 
them in living contact with the system. Light, food, remedy, 
all are without — objective. They need no aid of ours to give 
them existence or efficacy ; they need only the open eye, the 
recipient organ, the living contact, to reveal and exercise their 
appropriate efficacy. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved." 

Consider first the sublime simplicity of this answer. This 
simple grandeur characterizes all God's works. Man, uncertain 
of his ends, and limited in resources, multiplies his instrumental- 
ities, employs complicated apparatus, cumbrous machinery, a 
circuitous process. God, sure of the result, moves directly to- 
ward his object, and accomplishes the largest results by the 
simplest agencies : by the combination of a few simple elements 
produces all that infinite variety of forms, hues, and properties 
which we behold in nature : by one single law, that stupendous 
harmony in the movements of the worlds above. Gaze on 
those ten thousand worlds that glitter in our nocturnal heav- 
en's ; look through the telescope, till those thousands are con- 
verted into millions, and nebulas after nebulae are resolved into 
increasing millions ; watch the planets in their varying positions, 
comets in their eccentric career, then ask what rare combina- 
tion of forces, what intricate and complicated apparatus keeps 
each in its appropriate place, brings each at its appointed sea- 
son. Through all that vast domain one simple and majestic 
law presides. The law of gravitation retains planets, and 
comets in their orbits, and guides the sun in his flaming path 
through space. 

And when the great apostle lifts his eye to that glorious 



184 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



galaxy of worthies, shining most brightly in the darkest night 
of affliction, and points us to their radiant career, as they move 
serenely on, " subduing kingdoms, working righteousness, 
stopping the mouths of lions, quenching the violence of fire, 
valiant in fight, turning to flight the armies of the aliens" — 
what, we may ask, impelled them onward in their brilliant 
career, and sustained them amidst surrounding perils ? " Was 
not this their victory — even faith." 

When Luther threw down the gauntlet to pope and emperor, 
and stood before the diet, sole advocate of a condemned and 
accursed faith; when he fearlessly exclaimed, " Though there 
were as many devils at Worms as there are tiles on the houses, 
I would go ;" when Chalmers more recently marched calmly 
forth at the head of Scotland.' s free church (four hundred men), 
leaving behind them congregations, homes, each earthly com- 
fort, for " testimony of Jesus," it was faith that impelled and 
sustained them all. And all those mighty men who in every 
age have stamped deep upon their generation the irmpression of 
their character, and lived in perpetual conflict, have been men 
of faith, have walked with calm and assured step amidst un- 
seen realities, as amidst the visible, palpable things of the 
world around. The broad sky above was not a more real 
canopy, than the unseen and overshadowing majesty of God ; 
nor could the solid earth beneath g-ive firmer footing than the 
unfailing promise of God. They gazed, with steadfast eye, 
deep down into the abyss of woe, till all human torture had lost 
its terrors ; w r alked amidst the glories and bliss of God's para- 
dise alone, till all earthly splendor was stripped of its power 
to charm ; fought face to face in actual warfare with powers of 
darkness, and issuing from closet to pulpit, fresh from solemn 
meditations, victorious from terrible conflicts, their words of 
exhortation were like a voice from heaven, their tones of warn- 
ing like the trump of God. 

And we remark, in passing, that the necessity and value of 
faith are not confined to religion. The law which operates in 
yonder farther heavens, operates on the surface of the earth. 
The same law which shapes the orbit of the planet, bends the 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



185 



curve of the descending stone thrown by a school-boy's hand. 
Objects, sphere, direction, are different, the general principle is 
the same. "It is impossible, without faith, to please God," 
says the Bible. Without faith it is impossible to achieve any 
thing for the good of man, or even to continue our own exist- 
ence for a day. It is faith that nerves the patriot's arm, faith 
in his country's destiny, in the triumph of right : faith that sus- 
tains the enthusiastic ardor of pursuit : faith in the distant and 
unseen, which vividly portrays in the coming future the har- 
vest that shall reward all present toil. And those men of des- 
tiny, the Napoleons and Caesars of the world, was it not faith 
in themselves, in their own powers and fortune, that gave such 
superhuman energy to their genius ? Even the present Em- 
peror, we are told, never doubted, from earliest infancy, or in 
greatest peril, that he should one day wear the imperial dia- 
dem of France. And what is each anticipation of the future, 
and each preparation made for ourselves or others, our expec- 
tation of to-morrow, even, but an exercise of faith in the con- 
stancy of nature's laws, and the regularity of nature's course? 

Here, then, we have the great principle pervading the whole 
of the divine administration. We haA 7 e a present temporal in- 
terest at stake, that cannot be secured without the exercise of 
iaith in the laws of natural government, which passes beyond 
the sphere of sense and reasoning, grasps the future firmly, and 
gives to the distant and unseen all the power of visible and 
palpable realities. If we have an eternal interest to secure, 
is" it unreasonable to suppose that this may demand a corre- 
sponding faith in the laws and facts of moral government, and 
that it brings its motives and elements from that higher world 
and future existence ? 

2d. Faith, simple in its nature, is manifold in its operations 
and manifestations. This has perplexed the minds of theolo- 
gians, and started many questions as to the doctrine of salva- 
tion by faith alone. Is it faith united with love, obedience, 
prayer, hope? I answer, these are only varied manifestations 
of one and the same principle of faith. It is faith which loves, 
hopes, adores, obeys. Present in all, pervading all, vivifying 



186 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



all, the grand essential element in all. We behold the same 
in nature all around us and are not perplexed — perpetual 
change of form, while the substance remains the same. Water 
flowing in the stream, congealing into ice, the spray that curls 
above the cataract, the mist that hangs in the mountain's brow, 
white clouds piled upon the horizon or floating over the sky, 
the black thunder-cloud that sweeps careering before the tem- 
pest — all these are water still. Nay — to borrow iu part an 
illustration from an ancient father — pervading all nature, it is 
red in the rose, purple in the violet, white in the lily, green in 
the growing grass, and in the great bow of .heaven reflects in 
gorgeous coloring every variety of hue. It is an opinion to- 
ward which all modern discovery is rapidly converging, that 
the mild light of day, the gentle electricity diffused unseen and 
unfelt through all nature, the fire that bursts from the volcano, 
and the lightning that flashes from the sky, are all a single 
element in various manifestations, and reaching farther still 
into distant worlds, that when suns are kindled up, or suns go 
out, it is due to the presence or absence of this simple element. 

Even so we say faith is the light of knowledge, the warmth 
of love, the ardor of zeal, the gentle radiance that sheds a quiet 
beauty over the ordinary Christian life, and the deep, inward 
fire, glowing in the bosom, which ever moves the great heroes 
of truth, and lifts them in their mountain grandeur and granite 
strength high above their fellows. Nay, faith is the Chris- 
tian's life. He lives by faith, walks by faith, by faith wrestles 
with principalities and powers. In all his battles with the 
powers of darkness, faith supplies the shield and wields the 
sword. Faith adores an unseen God, hopes for an unseen 
heaven. Faith unites to an unseen Saviour. 

8d. This vital union with the Saviour is the grand essential 
characteristic of Christian faith, which not only constitutes it 
the sinew and substance of all Christian virtues, but the ground 
at once of our justification and sanctification : makes Christ our 
wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. It is 
strange that this essential characteristic has been so much over- 
looked by Christian theologians, and that men of high author- 



THE QUESTION AND ITS ANSWER. 



1S7 



ity, bewildered by a misty metaphysics, should have sought to 
lower this sublimest mystery in the Christian life, this greatest 
fact in Christian consciousness, to the level of an ordinary 
exercise of the human understanding. " Faith," they argue, 
"is only another name for belief;" belief is a word that ex- 
presses a well-known act of the understanding in view of 
evidence. Christian faith in Christ, therefore, they conclude, 
is the same in nature as belief in any other fact or facts — con- 
cerning Csesar, Napoleon, Alexander. I cannot stay now to 
analyze this fanfaronade of folly. Perhaps it would be difficult 
to collect, in so small a compass, more of folly and heresy than 
is contained in this stereotyped phraseology, now crystallized, 
and almost consecrated in so many of the schools. Suffice it 
to say, that it is contradicted by the whole tenor of the Bible 
and its specific language on this very subject ; and that it is 
also contradicted by ail true philosophy. 



VII. 



THE EXCELLENCY OF THE KNOWLEDGE OE CHRIST. 



1 Coe. ii. 2. — " For I determined not to know any thing among you, save 
Jesus Christ, and him crucified." 



We follow man from the cradle to the grave, observe the 
gradual development of all his powers, the smiling innocence 
and waking intellect of the child, the rude sports of the boy, 
the impetuous passion of the man, till his energies are enfeebled, 
his faculties begin to fail, and he at last disappears from our 
view. The curtain drops, the actor passes away, he is seen no 
more ; but what is behind the scenes ? Thus generation passes 
away after generation, and where are they? The dead who 
have gone before us, where are they ? We have heard of their 
deeds of valor, or read their works of immortal genius, or 
witnessed their works of benevolence and love, or mingled in 
all the sweet intercourse of social life along with them ; and 
now, where are they? That eye which, even when turned on 
empty space, beamed bright with intelligence, is it quenched 
forever ? That heart, which throbbed high with generous love 
for God and man, shall it beat no more ? That smile, which 
beamed with divine benevolence, and shed happiness along its 
path, is it chilled in the coldness of eternal death. That whole 
mass of living and moving, and feeling beings, who in suc- 
cessive generations have filled the scenes of this world's history, 
do they live again, or " lie in cold abstraction, and there 
rot?" 

It is here that our inquiries become really important, and 
our solicitude painfully intense, when the question concerns 
the happiness of incalculable millions, multiplied by an infinity 
of years. Yet it is precisely here that all humau knowledge 



KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. 



180 



fails us, all human speculation is at fault. Thus, we examine 
nature in its mightiest masses and its minutest particles; we 
observe its wonderful machinery and its beneficent operations, 
but where is the moving spirit? We perceive its dead and 
mute materialism, but where is that mysterious and fearful 
Spirit who first called it into being, gave the first impulse to its 
movements, and still sits on high and presides supremely over 
all its operations ? And what are his character and relations 
to us? Does he look with indolent or gloomy indifference on 
the course of human affairs ? Does he malignantly rejoice in the 
suffering of the race, or does he sit with the calm and awful 
dignity, the pure and untarnished uprightness of the supreme 
and omniscient Judge, scrutinizing all human actions, and 
awarding to each its own moral retributions ? 

And this great universe, in which we live and of which we 
form a part, so vast in its extent, so wonderful in its structure, 
so connected in its parts, and yet so separate, so remote, and 
yet so mutually dependent — What is it, and why? Is it an 
enigma and a riddle, or is there throughout the whole, some one 
great common principle uniting all in one bond of universal 
harmony, and leading all to the accomplishment of some su- 
preme and universal object. And do the beings mother parts 
of God's dominions feel an interest in us ? Is ? there a bond 
of moral sympathy, powerful as that which binds the eternal 
universe together, extending throughout this magnificent crea- 
tion, uniting God's moral universe into one family of brethren, 
under one Father's care. 

Over all these questions of deepest interest and sublime im- 
port, reason casts but a faint and feeble light. Into this region 
of grandeur and mystery and wonder it may not enter. It 
may stand indeed on the borders of that land, and gaze wist- 
fully over, with dim and doubtful vision, uncertain if the shapes 
it beholds are forms of light, or spirits of darkness, or creations 
of fancy. In the Gospel alone can these problems be solved. 

I. It is Christ that has brought life and immortality to 
light, and the knowledge he gives is most delightful and sub- 
lime. It is the revelation of his grace which has dispelled the 



190 



THE EXCELLENCY OF THE 



darkness and dimness that enveloped our sky, and has made 
all things bright and clear to our view. Over the grave it has 
cast a glory, over nature a charm ; in man it has discovered a 
dignity and in the universe a harmony unknown before. The 
sun of righteousness has arisen, the mists which obscured our 
vision are dispersed, and the whole scene lies spread out in love- 
liness and grandeur beneath his pure and heavenly light. Could 
one of those unfortunate beings, whose senses have been locked 
up from the hour of birth in darkness and deep night, be sud- 
denly visited by the full, clear light of heaven, lift up his de- 
lighted eyes upon this glorious earth, and this broad, starry 
sky, behold the ten thousand forms of loveliness and hues of 
beauty around him, and that glorious and majestic world of • 
light above him, pouring forth from his throne of kingly ex- 
altation, with sovereign munificence, light, life, and loveliness 
on this inferior globe, it would be to him no longer that old 
world he had so imperfectly learned before, but as a new crea- 
tion sprung fresh from its Creator's hand, and endowed with 
new properties of beauty and of grandeur. 

Even so is it with the Christian. A regenerating spirit has 
brooded over the waters, and a new creation has sprung up 
beneath his influence — •" Old things have passed away and all 
things have become new." To him all things now assume new 
and nobler attributes. The broad arch of heaven and the green 
garniture of earth, the deep majestic ocean and the everlasting 
hills, the music of the grove and the beauty of the valley — in all 
of these "he sees a hand you cannot see, he hears a voice you 
cannot hear." But especially in regard to man, in all that 
concerns his origin and his nature, his duty and his destiny, 
his views have taken a higher range, his sentiments have 
assumed a loftier and holier tone. Man is no longer the child 
of clay, and the sport of chance, but the heir of immortality— 
a citizen of heaven. His desires, boundless as infinity, now find 
an appropriate object. His faculties, large by nature, and 
capable of unlimited expansion, obtain a suitable theatre for 
their exercise and development. Those desires, no longer limited 
by earth and sense, rising, expanding, glowing in the 



KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. 



191 



atmosphere of heavenly truth, find their most dignified em- 
ployment, their most exalted gratification. Those faculties, 
enlarging with the objects they embrace, and grasping still 
vaster at each felt enlargement, secure full scope for their 
liveliest and healthiest exercise, in that wide field of lofty con- 
templation opened up in the Bible, where the soul walks forth 
with delight, as on its native soil, with God and angels, and 
redeemed spirits for its companions. All around is stamped 
with the impress of the Infinite and Eternal. 

The whole universe is now our Father's house, where we 
may forever gaze on his reflected glory, exalted, humbled, and 
refreshed by the delightful manifestation. On all around we 
behold the footsteps of the Deity. This earth is the cradle, 
the nursery of immortal beings. Here angels minister. Here 
God shows forth his wonders. Here Christ died. Every spot 
is holy, for the Lord is here; Oh, what a theme is this ! — theme 
to employ an angel's tongue — theme to enkindle a seraph's soul 
of fire, where the mind labors beneath the vastness of its own 
conceptions, and the tongue falters to express what the mind, 
alas ! too feebly conceives ; where the thoughts, rolling onward, 
become vast, vague, and fearful as that immensity in which they 
rove. 

Oh, mother ! that babe upon your bosom is no longer the 
feeble, helpless thing that you imagine. It is an angel in the 
bud. That man of multiplied afflictions, tossing from side to 
side upon his couch of woe, visited by the neglect or scorn of 
the proud and gay around him, and presenting to the eye of 
benevolent observation the most melancholy of earthly specta- 
cles, shall rise above these scenes of darkness. And from the 
lonely inclosure, where so many decaying forms are laid, where 
the wild grass waves luxuriant over broken sepulchres, shall 
spring forth new forms of beauty and glory — angelic beauty, 
unfading glory. 

Go with me now through the whole range of human science, 
and where shall we find aught at once so delightful and so 
sublime; aught that sheds over the world a light at once so 
steady, so cheerful, and so glorious, that so enlarges the mind 



192 



THE EXCELLENCY OF THE 



and purifies the heart, that so glorifies the Creator, and at once 
humbles and exalts the creature ? Have we not well said that 
this Christian knowledge is the most delightful and sublime ? 
Let us proceed then to our second proposition, which is, that — 
II. The most useful and necessary knowledge is that which 
is found in the Gospel of Christ. All knowledge is valuable, 
even that which serves to amuse a vacant hour, or gratify a 
momentary curiosity. But who would compare the amusement 
of an hour with the interests of a life-time, the curiosity of a 
moment with the weightiest concerns of families and nations. 
What concerns the body's comfort is important ; but what is 
this to the soul's high interest — the duration of a day to the 
long lapse of interminable ages ? Children waste their anxieties 
on the trifles of the present moment ; wiser men look forward 
to the exigencies of future life ; the wisest take in the whole 
interests of a life which shall not end. The knowledge of 
ancient navigators served their purposes, when only a few 
miles from shore. They had noticed a few rocks, and promon- 
tories, and observed a few well-known stars; and when the 
sky was serene, and the sea tranquil, and the tall mountains 
seen proudly lifting their heads in the distance, or the low 
beach in the blue line skirting the horizon, they could boldly 
and safely prosecute their narrow trades, but when far out at 
sea, with naught in view but the wild waste of waters spread- 
ing far and wide around, or when the dense fog enveloped 
their bark, or the storm lashed ocean into fury, their knowl- 
edge failed — failed in their hour of peril, and left them to wan- 
der aimless and hopeless over the illimitable waters — to perish 
by hunger, or dash a fearful wreck upon some unknown shore. 
Their knowledge, though limited, was useful, but how much 
more useful that of modern times, when the compass points 
the way, and man sails securely in the darkest night, and over 
the farthest ocean, as in the clear light of day, in full view of his 
native shore. 

Even so it is with the knowledge of religion. This is life's 
real compass amidst its storms and darkness, this points ever 
to the only haven of rest, and, over a tempestuous ocean, guides 



KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. 



to an unseen land of glory and repose. But, not only did the in- 
vention of the compass lead to the discovery of unknown lands, 
it changed all the relations of commerce, and operated on so- 
ciety in all its interests and in every region. Wealth, intelli- 
gence, civilization, freedom, were diffused widely through its 
instrumentality, and the Gospel has been borne to untold mil- 
lions, who otherwise had never heard its tones of mercy. So 
religion has not confined its influence to our future destiny, 
but has gently diffused it through all our social and personal 
relations, and is really a blessing to society, as to the individual. 
Let him who doubts it compare ancient with modern morals ; 
the purity of domestic Christian life with the licentiousness 
and debauchery prevalent among the ancients; let him visit 
those cities half excavated from the lava which covered and 
preserved them, and providentially offering the contrast to our 
eyes, where the licentious Italian blushes for his more corrupt 
predecessors, as he gazes on scenes which modesty may not 
dare to describe. Let him compare the pure domestic bliss 
and household virtues of our own favored land with the pollu- 
tions which now prevail in those nations and cities where the 
Saviour is not known or is rejected. Thus may he learn to ac- 
knowledge how incalculable is the benefit bestowed by the 
Gospel on society in all its relations, political, social, and 
moral. 

There is much, however, that is useful, and yet not indispen- 
sable ; much that adorns and dignifies human life, which yet is 
not essential to human comfort ; and of the greater part of those 
accomplishments which are so much prized and so eagerly 
sought after in society around us, it must, at last, be said, 
that, however gracefully they may sit upon the polished and 
refined, they have little beneficial influence upon human hap- 
piness or human virtue. With a clear head and a quiet con- 
science, one can do very well without them. 

But the knowledge of Jesus Christ is absolutely indispensa- 
ble. It has this pre-eminence above all other knowledge, that 
none other will supply its place ; that in no condition of life, 
under no peculiarity of circumstances, with no singularity of 
9 



104 



THE EXCELLENCY OF THE 



genius or character, can it be safely neglected. To the deeply 
reflecting and speculative mind it is necessary, as the termina- 
tion of its doubts, as the solutions of those perplexing problems 
which have long agitated and disturbed it ; to the miserable 
it is necessary, as the solace of his affliction, as the only sup- 
port beneath the burden which has long overwhelmed him ; 
to one conscious of guilt it is necessary, as the only method 
of escape from the upbraidings of an awakened conscience; 
and to all, as the only hope of salvation from the wrath to 
come. 

It will be necessary to individuals, to families, to human so- 
ciety, as long as purity and gentleness and love are essential 
to human happiness, as long as glory to God in the highest is 
intimately and indissolubly connected with 4 ' peace on earth, 
and good will among men." What would be this earth, if 
there were naught beside ! if the blue arch of heaven no longer 
spanned the globe, if the stars without number no longer glit- 
tered in our sky, if the sun no longer sent down his benignant 
beams to cheer our darkness, nor the clouds their moisture to 
fertilize our valleys ? Even thus would it be if there were no 
heaven above for the immortal spirit, if no kindly influences 
came down from that far-off world, to purify and elevate our 
race. Oh, what would be earth, if earth were all! 

It is a truth which can never be too deeply pondered, too 
deeply engraven on our hearts, that no human knowledge can 
satisfy the soul. Thy philosophy may know all systems. Thy 
history may extend from the commencement of the globe, and 
descend with minutest accuracy to the present moment. Thy 
mathematics may include all that is known of number and 
quantity, in all their abstruse inquiries, and all their practical 
applications, but what is all this to thee, if thy soul be not 
satisfied ? The soul is of a higher nature, and there is, within, 
a restless longing after higher and better knowledge, and 
sooner shall that soul itself be annihilated than thou canst 
eradicate thence this surest mark of its immortal nature. 
There is but one thing needful, to know the one true and living 
God, and Jesus Christ his only Son, whom to know is life 



KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. 



195 



eternal. Without this, all other knowledge is useless. Thou 
mayest be deeply learned in all that physicians have discovered 
through centuries of labor. But, alas ! what will it profit ? Thy 
body perhaps is healed, but thy soul is diseased — diseased with 
a deadly malady, which preys inwardly upon the vitals, and 
will soon break out in the darkest symptoms of eternal death ! 
Thine estate may be secured by the learning of a skilful at- 
torney, but what will it profit thee, thou hast no inheritance in 
heaven. Thou art a child of wrath, a son of perdition, an heir 
to the agonies that cannot be endured, yet may not pass away. 
At death all other knowledge fails. Will your philosophy, 
your medicine, your law pass on with you into heaven ? Alas ! 
what subtlety can deceive, what eloquence persuade the heart- 
searching and Omniscient One? What skill of man, what 
medicine of the shops can heal or alleviate the torments of a 
soul in ruin ? 

Then it is that this knowledge is most useful. After guid- 
ing through life it attends you in death, and in that hour 
when flesh and heart shall fail, it will be the strength of 
your heart and your portion forever. Oh, in that hour how 
vain is earthly wisdom, how precious the knowledge of Jesus 
Christ, and him crucified; how fearful to hear him say, 
"Depart from me, I never knew you." Observe that it is 
the knowledge of Christ crucified that the apostle so highly 
prizes, as a mediator between God and man, as an atoning sac- 
rifice for sin, as a great high-priest, who has shed his own blood 
for us, and entered into the holiest of holies on our behalf. It 
is not merely a sentimental admiration of his exalted and beau- 
tiful morality, but a cordial acceptance of his atonement for 
sin. It is not as a model, but as a Saviour, that we must know 
him. It is not merely the glorified, but the crucified Redeemer. 
It is to love his Gospel, not only when greeted with the halle- 
lujahs of the multitude, but likewise when saluted with the 
cry of "Crucify him, crucify him." Ah, my brethren, it is 
easy to know Christ when all are crying " Blessed is he that 
cometh in the name of the Lord ; " but when the question is 
scornfully, fiercely put, "Art thou not one of this man's disci- 



196 



THE EXCELLENCY OF THE 



pies ?" how many of us are prone to say, "I know not the 
man"? 

But this is not the knowledge of which the apostle speaks so 
enthusiastically. " Gratitude," it has been finely said, "is the 
memory of the heart," and the definition is as philosophically 
just as it is poetically beautiful. Even so would we say, "Re- 
ligion is the knowledge of the heart." To know Jesus Christ 
is not merely to have heard of him, to talk of him, to have 
read the history of his life and the story of his death. It is 
to know him as a friend, as an intimate and daily companion, 
as our comfort in sorrow, as our light in darkness, our joy in 
affliction, our guide, our director, our exceeding great reward. 

It is not an uncommon circumstance for us to associate for 
months and even for years with an individual whom we cannot 
understand, whom we do not know, while we often mingle in 
a society where we are ourselves perpetually misunderstood. 
The reason is there is no sympathy, no community of character 
and feeling between us. The man of lofty character and pure 
and elevated feelings is an enigma to those of an opposite 
description. They have no conception of his feelings because 
they have nothing responsive within themselves. But when 
we meet with one of feelings corresponding to our own, how 
soon, and how intimately do we know him ; each feeling, each 
thought, is immediately understood, nay, almost anticipated 
before expressed. We feel that we have access to his inmost 
soul, that it is but the reflection of our own. Now it is this 
intimacy of knowledge, which springs from true affection, from 
a community of feeling and character, to which the Apostle 
John alludes when he says, " Our fellowship is with the Father 
and the Son and the Spirit." To which the Saviour refers 
when he says, " If any man love me, I and my Father will 
come and make our abode with him." 

Professing Christian, knowest thou nothing of this intimate 
intercourse, this near communion, this hidden life ? Then 
must we say, in all sincerity, thou knowest nothing of the mat- 
ter. Thou hast at best only touched the hem of the Saviour's 
garment. Thou hast not leaned on his bosom. Thou knowest 



KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. 



197 



him only as they knew him who first welcomed him as a mon- 
arch, and then crucified him as a malefactor. But how shall this 
divine and heavenly knowledge be attained ? There is no 
strength of the human intellect which can master it. There is 
no elevation of human genius which can reach it. There is no 
accumulation of human learning which can approach it. "It is 
not of the earth, earthly. It is the wisdom that descendeth 
from above." It is high, you cannot attain unto it. You can- 
not pile Pelion upon Ossa, Alps upon Alps, one acquirement 
upon another, it is all in vain. He who would pluck fruit from 
the tree of life must ascend on the wings of faith, and be 
buoyed up by the mighty spirit of the Lord. It is by humble 
prayer, and faithful study of God's word, attended by his illu- 
minating spirit, that man attains to the wisdom of the just. 

O ye young aud ardent minds, confident in your strength, 
and sanguine in your expectations, learn to be fools, that ye 
may become wise ; to be humble, that ye may be exalted. How 
shall the blind man comprehend the glories of the world around 
him till a power from on high shall unlock the doors of vision, 
and let in upon him. the light of heaven? How shall the deaf 
man understand the melody of sound till an almighty hand 
shall touch the organ of hearing, and a divine voice shall say, 
" Ephphatha, be thou opened " ? How shall man by wisdom 
find out the Almighty ? 

And now may I be permitted to address a single word to the 
numerous youths whom I behold around me? Though un- 
known to many of you in person, yet have I been often pres- 
ent with you in spirit ; and though separated by mountains, 
continents, and oceans, my heart hath yearned after you as the 
heart of a mother toward her first-born. 'Twas not so much 
that I desired to engage with you in those social studies which 
I have loved from earliest childhood, but it was that I hoped 
to mingle with human science something diviner far ; that the 
foundation of solid learning might bear a superstructure reach- 
ing upward to the skies ; that I might add my feeble testimony 
to that of the great cloud of witnesses for the superiority of 
the Gospel. Be assured, my beloved, that wherever you may 



1 98 THE EXCELLENCY OF THE KNOWLEDGE. ETC. 



wander, if not dazzled by splendor, nor awed by authority, nor 
misled by fashion, the conviction must ever deepen on your 
mind, that the fear of the Lord is the only true wisdom, and 
that of all earthly spectacles the most melancholy is presented 
when learning and genius are divorced from piety, when gi- 
gantic intellect, clothed with almost superhuman learning, and 
urged on by towering pride, attempts to scale the battlements 
of heaven, and, failing in the effort, lies crushed beneath the 
weight of its own massive armor, and convulsed by the throes 
of its own perverted energies. 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM THE CHARGE OE 3IADXESS. 



Acts, xxvi. 24, 25. — "And as lie thus spake for himself. Festus said with a 
loud voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee 
mad. But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak forth the 
words of truth and soberness.' 1 



If an individual, in some strange paroxysm of perverted 
ambition, should aspire after the reputation of the most egre- 
gious folly, and desire to be known and proclaimed among his 
fellow-men as the completest madman of his age, what course 
should he pursue to attain most certainly his object ? Should 
he devise some new scheme of folly, stranger and more pre- 
posterous than all which had preceded it, by which man could 
fritter away more surely the noble powers which God has 
bestowed upon him in the most heartless and frivolous amuse- 
ments ? Should he invent some theory in morals, or some sys- 
tem of religion, more monstrous and revolting than any which 
the human imagination, in its wildest reveries has yet con- 
ceived, or the human heart in its deepest pollution has yet 
embraced ? 

If he understood at all the nature of man, far different would 
be his scheme. There is no frivolity so absurd or stupid, that 
it is not freely indulged and gravely defended by many who 
profess to be wise. There is no theory in matter, mind, or 
morals, so strangely and ludicrously inconsistent, so self-con- 
tradictory and suicidal, that it has not received the sanction of 
grave philosophers, and the stamp of highest wisdom. Even 
those who denied the existence of the objects of their inquiry, 
and destroyed at one fell stroke all matter, mind, and morals, 



200 



PAUL YIXDTCATED FROM 



were considered the profoundest in wisdom. To doubt was 
considered the beginning and the end of reasoning, and the 
sceptical philosophy was enthroned in the admiration of man- 
kind. It is not then by being pre-eminently absurd, or pre- 
eminently frivolous, that he could ever attain the desired repu- 
tation. But he need not despair. Let him reverse the process, 
and his object is accomplished. Let him regulate his life 
according to the principles of the purest and truest reason. 
Let his thoughts ascend to a higher region, and take a wider 
sweep, than those of the men around him. Exalted as he is, 
to a higher intellectual eminence, and looking far away over a 
more extensive horizon, let his feelings, his character, and his 
conduct all partake of a similar exaltation, and be guided by a 
spirit and moulded to a fashion for which others feel no sym- 
pathy, because they have no comprehension. For such a man 
as this, whatever might be his sphere of action or field of 
thought, the common mass would only feel contempt or pity. 
And whether he propounded some far-seen truth in politics, or 
some deeply-pondered principle in the philosophy of the mind, 
or some rule of action deeply laid in man's constitution and 
relations to the universe, or some wide and comprehensive 
view of God's creation and moral government — all this would 
only be fresh evidence to them of an unbalanced mind, 
roving vigorously, perhaps, but almost blindly in an ideal 
world. 

It is obvious that if any man were endowed with a new 
sense whicli opened before him qualities unseen and unknown 
to other men, the whole of his language and conduct might be 
entirely different from that of other men, and moving thus in a 
new world, and influenced by new views, he might seem to 
them the subject of some strange disorder. And thus too it is 
easy to conceive how the individual to whom we have alluded, 
living in a new world of thought open to higher influences, 
and guided by more exalted views, might act upon principles 
and cherish opinions utterly incomprehensible to those around ; 
and, while directed by the highest wisdom, might appear the 
victim of the grossest folly, because the wisdom which he 



THE CHARGE OF MADNESS. 



201 



cultivated was far above, and, as the Psalmist happily ex- 
presses it, "out of sight." 

When Columbus first announced to the inhabitants of Europe 
the existence of that new world that lay far away in the distant 
west, beyond the waters of an untried and unmeasured ocean, 
and avowed his determination to visit that undiscovered land, 
and reveal its unknown wonders and hidden wealth to the 
astonished nations, he was considered the wildest dreamer of 
his age, perhaps the most extravagant and visionary speculator 
of any day. He travelled over Europe in the prosecution of 
his magnificent scheme ; he passed from city to city, and from 
court to court, but was everywhere met with the same cool and 
contemptuous derision. The philosopher smiled and scarcely 
deigned to argue, the witling jested, and the man of influence 
and power listened with impatient astonishment to a scheme 
so full of certain danger, and so remote from probable success ; 
and it was not till after years of unwearied labor, and most 
cruel mockings, that he obtained a feeble and ill-appointed 
fleet, to embark in the greatest of earthly enterprises. When 
Newton first removed the veil which concealed many of the 
mysteries of nature, and announced to mankind the vastness of 
the material universe, and the simplicity of the laws by which 
its various parts are bound together, and t heir complicated 
movements harmoniously directed, the views which he un- 
folded were too vast for the philosophers of the day, and many 
denounced, as idle and visionary theories, the sober results of 
mathematical calculation. 

We ought not then to be surprised, that when the Apostle 
Paul went forth among mankind to tell of that invisible, whence 
no voyager has ever yet returned to make known his discov- 
eries, and to proclaim those riches and that glory which no 
eye has seen and no ear has heard and no heart has been able 
to conceive, he should be often heard with careless incredulity, 
and his annunciations treated as the wild extravagancies of an 
overheated brain. Nothing, says a scoffing sceptic, could be 
more visionary than the attempt to reform mankind ; yet this 
was the very enterprise in which the apostle had embarked. 
9* 



202 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM 



Other philosophers had travelled, that they might gain instruc- 
tion : he that he might communicate knowledge. Others had 
visited foreign lands, that they might study the laws and 
manners of mankind, and from the collected wisdom of nations 
add something to their own stores : he went forth to proclaim 
that wisdom which is not of the earth, earthy, but descended 
from above, to make known the laws and the government of 
Him who sits in presiding dignity over all worlds, and on 
whose high award depend alike the destinies of men and angels. 
And in the prosecution of this high design, there was no dan- 
ger which he did not meet, no suffering which he did not 
endure : he saw death in all its shapes, and scorned them all. 
There was no city celebrated for its learning, its vices, or its 
wealth, which he did not visit ; and though he labored with 
an energy that could not be wearied, and argued with a force 
that could not be resisted, and poured forth, on every topic 
that he touched, a torrent of the most convincing and per- 
suasive eloquence, yet, wherever he directed his steps, he was 
met with the same rude insults, and bitterly derided as a 
fanatic, a babbler, and a fool. 

A stranger once appeared in Athens. He came not to linger 
amidst the shades of the Academy, or to muse on the departed 
genius of Plato. He paused not to admire the monuments of 
human art, to gaze upon the works of Phidias and Praxiteles, 
those amazing productions of creative genius which have 
secured to their authors the immortality they designed to 
confer on others. He only saw that they were wholly given 
to idolatry ; he only noticed that strange altar erected to the 
unknown God. And now the crowd of lively and inquisitive 
Athenians has gathered around him, and as they move up 
toward the Areopagus, each is whispering to his friend, 
" What will this babbler say?" The gay and superficial Epi- 
curean leads on the attack, and assures him that pleasure is 
the chief good of man, and that the gods repose in tranquil 
dignity far "above the stir' and smoke of the dim spot that we 
call earth," indifferent alike to human conduct and human hap- 
piness. The stern rind haughty S:<>ic largely prates of human 



THE CHARGE OF MADNESS. 



208 



wisdom and human dignity, assures him that happiness and 
misery are equally indifferent, and that the wise man is superior 
to the fates, and even independent of the gods; darkly hinting 
all the while the uncertainty of the future being, and the 
absurdity of expecting a state of future rewards and punish- 
ments. 

And now this stranger is standing on Mars Hill, the messen- 
ger of peace in the temple of the god of war, and, with the 
native dignity of an upright and manly intellect, he spurns 
away from him all the jargon of the schools, and brushes off 
the cobwebs of sophistry which Grecian subtilty had woven. 
He enters not the labyrinth of their endless disputations, but 
marches on with steady and assured step to the great object of 
his mission, and announces, in brief and energetic language, the 
great and sublime truths of religion, which all their systems 
neglected or denied. He proclaimed to the idolatrous crowd 
the one true and living God, who made heaven aud earth and 
all things that are therein, and shows from one of their own 
poets the folly of worshipping wood and stone for gods, since 
we ourselves are the offspring of a spiritual and omnipresent 
God. He teaches the Epicurean the presiding and ever-present 
providence of God, in whom we live and move and have our 
being, and to the haughty Stoic puffed with imaginary virtue, 
and doubting about a future state of being, lie teaches the 
necessity of repentance toward God, and points him forward 
to that day of righteous and terrible revelations, when God 
will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath 
ordained. But the simple majesty of these great truths had no 
attraction whatever for the minds of the common mass, im- 
mersed as they w r ere in the absurdities and the sensuality of 
paganism, or of the philosophers, lost as they were in the mazes 
of their minute and subtile disquisitions, and with one accord 
they began to mock w T h?n they heard of the resurrection of 
the dead. 

Thus to be the sport at once of the wise and the foolish, of 
the ignorant and the learned, is perhaps the severest trial 
which a proud and ardent spirit can endure ; and if ever there 



204 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM 



was a man whose native sensibility would writhe beneath such 
an infliction, whose impetuous temper would rise up and in- 
dignantly repel it, that man was the Apostle Paul. But if he 
felt it as a man, as an apostle he despised it all. And hence, 
when rudely interrupted by Festus in the midst of his appeal 
to the Jewish prophets, and charged with madness, he mani- 
fests no irritation, he sends back no retort, he assumes no air 
of fanatical superiority, he fulminates no bold or bitter denunci- 
ation, but, with the temper of a saint and the politeness of a 
gentleman, he addresses him by his proper title, and replies 
with a simple negative, "I am not mad, most noble Festus." 

And here it may be well to remark how decided and how 
bitter is the opposition of man's nature against the truth of 
God. When the Saviour of men was to be crucified, Pilate and 
Herod forgot their ancient enmity, and united to accomplish 
his destruction. The Pharisees and Sadducees were always 
arrayed in bitterest hostility against each other, yet would ever 
unite to assault and to entangle our Redeemer. And so we 
see the various sects of Grecian philosophers. Though en- 
gaged in perpetual wranglings with each other, and warf ire 
violent in the inverse proportion to the importance of the 
matters in debate, they could suspend their mutual hostilities 
for a season, that Epicurean and Stoic and Peripatetic in solid 
phalanx might march to the assault upon the new religion. 
Each saw the folly of all systems except their own, and each 
felt their own condemned along with others by the truth of 
God. And thus we see it is at the present day. All men per- 
ceive the faults and follies of all except themselves, yet all 
unite in urging the charge of madness against the serious and 
consistent servant of their Lord. The Jew despised and ab- 
horred the idolatry of heathenism ; and the heathen looked 
with equal aversion and contempt on the narrow and bigoted 
spirit of the Jews ; while both united in cruel mockings and 
bitter persecutions against that divine and perfect system before 
which the idolatry of heathenism was soon to disappear, and 
the bigotry of the Jewish system was to be lost in the large- 
ness of a more exalted and expansive philanthropy. The ten- 



THE CHARGE OF MADNESS. 



205 



ants of a lunatic asylum, though each unconscious of his own 
malady, often perceive the madness of their fellow-sufferers. 
You may probably remember the anecdote of one who pointed 
out to a visitor the madness of a brother lunatic. He was 
asked to state the evidence of his madness, and replied, " He 
fancies himself to be John the Baptist." How do you know 
that he is not John the Baptist ? " Because I am well ac- 
quainted with the Baptist," and then claimed for himself the 
name and the attributes of the Redeemer. But of all the 
tenants of Bedlam, none seems more strangely and hopelessly 
irrational to those disordered minds than the skilful physician 
or the watchful keeper, who would heal their diseases and 
restrain their madness. 

And even thus do we find it among that large and restless 
crowd who are hurrying to and fro with anxious steps in pur- 
suit of imaginary and unreal good. The man of business 
wonders at the man of pleasure, and can scarcely excuse mad- 
ness which barters away all future health, respectability, and 
comfort for a momentary gratification. But he forgets at once 
his arithmetic and his wisdom when he comes to calculate the 
whole profits of his business. He had gained the world, but 
lost his soul. The philosophic statesman thinks all conquerors 
madmen, from Macedonia's madman to the Swede, while the 
man of literary taste beholds onty madness in all schemes of 
public ambition, and thinks that popular applause, whether 
won in the senate or the field, scarcely rewards the toil that 
would attain it. And thus is the charge of folly handed 
around from man to man among us : each wondering at the 
madness of mankind, while he and a chosen few are guided by 
the principles of real wisdom. 

Now, suppose that a man of perfect wisdom were introduced 
into this Bedlam, that the principles of pure and unmixed truth 
and reason were exemplified in all his conduct and all his opin- 
ions, would not the madness of all be rebuked by his actions 
and his character, and would not all unite in charging upon 
him the folly which existed only among themselves? Let us 
not wonder that the Saviour of the world was said to have 



206 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM 



a devil and to be mad ; or that those of his disciples who fol- 
low in his footsteps partake of his reproach. And let us 
observe how ingeniously the enemies of Christ can accommo- 
date their charge of madness to the circumstances of the case. 
Is Paul mad ? — it is from learning : is Peter mad ? — it is from 
ignorance ; and thus it is with us. To refute the charge of 
madness we point to the men who have stood foremost on 
every field of noble thought and lofty conduct, and show that 
they were Christians. We may point to" a Newton, beyond 
all controversy, the mightiest mind of ancient or of modern 
times, who saw by intuition what others learned by slow and 
laborious study, and walked with confident and steady step 
over the new and wondrous fields of discovery, where others 
grow dizzy in the attempt to follow him ; who lifted the veil 
from nature and revealed a new universe to our astonished 
gaze, and returning from such dazzling and magnificent specu- 
lations, with the docility of childhood and the humility of real 
genius, gave to the Word of God the same honest attention, 
and the intense and reverential study that he had bestowed 
upon His works. But they tell us that Newton was so daz- 
zled by the magnificence of his discoveries that he could not 
accurately discern the truth on other subjects, and that he who 
was so great in the philosophy of matter, was not, after all, so 
deeply versed in the philosophy of mind and morals. We 
turn to Locke, the prince of modern metaphysicians ; but meta- 
physicians, they say, are always misty. We turn to Bacon, 
the founder of ail modern science, the teacher of all modern 
philosophers ; to Milton, the greatest of all modern poets; to 
Hale, the reformer of English law, and Grotius, the founder 01 
the laws of nations ; to Washington, the greatest of modern 
patriots, and Wilberforce, the purest of modern statesmen, and 
most distinguished of practical philanthropists. But all these 
were mad, mad from too much learning or too little, from 
too much intercourse with men, or too close confinement to 
books. Their philosophy was too shallow or too deep ; their 
fancy too lively or too dull ; their reasoning too subtle or too 
imdistinguishing ! 



THE CHARGE OF MADNESS. 



207 



Now, it is the easiest of all possible arguments against 
the truth of the Gospel, or a practical obedience to its precepts, 
to denounce it all as madness, but certainly, to a reflecting 
mind, it is of all the least convincing. Was the apostle mad 
when he preferred the pure and exalted morality of the New 
Testament to the debasing and polluting systems of heathen- 
ism ? Was he mad when he preferred the Jehovah of the 
Bible to the Jupiter of paganism ? When he adopted the be- 
lief of one eternal, immutable, omnipresent, and holy Creator, 
and rejected that popular mythology which peopled heaven, 
earth, and hell, and sea and sky, with lords many and gods 
many — the creations of poetical fancy — impure, revengeful, 
weak, rivalling the worst of men in horrid crimes, and scarcely 
surpassing the mightiest in power? Was he mad when he 
neglected the philosophy of his day, where the idlest questions 
were discussed with the greatest warmth ; and men, professing 
to be wise, became fools, piling high doubt upon doubt, until 
the existence of God and the immortality of the soul were 
buried under the heaps they had raised ? Was he mad when 
he cherished, with fondest affection, that hope of immortality, 
which, more than all besides, exalts our nature above the beasts 
that perish, cheers virtue onward in its path of duty, and 
sheds around man's darkest hour the brightness of a glory 
which shall never fede away ? Was he -mad when he preferred 
the simple beauty of the Gospel to the traditions of the Jewish 
elders, by which they had obscured their law ? When he 
believed the predictions of the prophet who so long before had 
foretold the coming of the Saviour, his sirfierings, and his 
resurrection, was he mad because he did not disobey the 
heavenly vision, but finding that which prophecy had foretold 
and miracle had confirmed to his senses, he testified " both to 
small and great, saying no other things than those which the 
prophets and Moses did say should come" ? And are we mad, 
my Christian brethren, because we live according to the precepts 
of the Saviour, and cherish the hopes which he has kindled, 
and mercifully placed before us ? 

I believe there is a God that ruleth in the heavens, whoso 



208 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM 



eyes behold, whose eyelids try, the children of men ; a God 
whose holiness is without spot, and his power without bounds. 
Am I a madman, then, when I seek to obtain his favor, and 
avoid his coining wrath ; when I consecrate to his service the 
powers which his goodness and mercy have given at first, and 
still continue for my welfare ? I look within and I find my- 
self endowed with capacities of enjoyment and suffering which 
are not of this world. I perceive hopes which dart forward 
into eternity, and fears that hurry onward to the bar of God. 
I feel a longing after immortality, a stirring as if of some 
divinity within me, a grasping after something infinite and eter- 
nal, vague aspirations after a peace which passeth understand- 
ing, which this world can never bestow : a joy ineffable and 
full of glory. I feel that to such high powers belongs a cor- 
responding destiny. Am I a madman, then, when I aim to 
reach the destiny before me, to fulfil the high design of my 
existence, to employ the powers which God has given, accord- 
ing to the precepts of his holy word ? I have a soul to save. 
I have a heaven to secure. I have before me an immortality 
of joy or woe. I lie under a fearful responsibility. Interests 
too large for human comprehension, too enduring for human 
calculation, vast as the value of the soul, and durable as its 
long existence, depend upon my conduct. Will you call me 
mad if I stir myself up to lay hold on the magnitude of the 
work before me, if I gird up the loins of my understanding, if 
I summon every power to the great undertaking, if I look 
coldly upon worldly pleasures and worldly honors, if absorbed 
in the great business of eternity I have no leisure for the fri- 
volities of time, no relish for its light and unsubstantial enjoy- 
ments ? When the wine sparkles in the cup, and the music 
floats by in full and voluptuous swell, and the dance goes 
gayly and merrily on, am I mad if I suppose there is some 
other employment more worthy of a rational and immortal be- 
ing, if I cast my thoughts onward to the songs and the melody 
of heaven, and think of the groans and agonies which ascend 
with the smoke of their torment from the bottomless pit ? Am 
I mad when I use the world as not abusing it, and looking up- 



THE CHARGE OF MADNESS. 



209 



ward to the invisible and eternal one, live as a stranger and a 
pilgrim here ? No, he is not a madman who thus lives, and 
thus prepares to die. But he is mad who, in all the light of 
the Gospel, closes his eyes against it all ; who, with the glad 
news of salvation sounding in his ears, lives as if he had no 
ears to hear or heart to understand. 

I knew a young man once, I say not where, but well I knew 
him, with talents of the highest order, and an education com- 
pletely to develop them all. With a mind keenly sensitive to 
beauty of every kind, a taste developed in early life, he soon 
possessed a relish for the ancient classics. The language 
of antiquity became almost as his mother tongue, and the 
poets and orators and historians of Greece and Rome as famil- 
iar to his boyhood as the writers of the English language. 
"With admiration for the great men of antiquity, he imbibed 
their love of glory, their restless, burning, insatiable ambition, 
and along with the sensitiveness of genius he had its love of 
high excitement, and was a voluptuary, now in literature, now 
in sensual indulgence. He was early touched by the Spirit of 
God, and brought to see his sinfulness and danger, but strug- 
gled long and boldly struggled against its heavenly influen- 
ces. God's spirit will not always strive, and, like ten thousand 
others, he was left to the madness of his own mind and the 
hardness of his own heart. lie sought relief in scepticism, as 
others seek it in spirits, and finding it an opiate, forgot it was 
a poison. He read and read again all the sceptical authors of 
our language. He dived deeper into the stream of pleasure, and, 
now dreaming of philosophy, and now longing after glory, and 
now running after indulgence, he passed from youth to man- 
hood, and when I last conversed with him he told me with a 
bitter smile that his character answered to that of the sceptic 
described by Johnson in his Hambler, who had doubted all 
that was good and true and lovely, till he had alienated all 
friendship and lost all love, and was severed from all the sym- 
pathies and affections of human life. He is still alive, and, in 
the city where he now resides, fills a most conspicuous station 
in the public mind. He may yet live to be great, for his tal- 



210 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM 



ents are uncommon, and his ambition boundless. He may rise 
to be the wonder and envy of all around him, but he cannot 
be happy. And should one hereafter meet him in the full tide 
of his success, midway in his career of anticipated glory — 
though thousands should hang with rapture on his lips, and 
senates should yield to the power of his eloquence — and in the 
language of honest truth tell him he was mad, his own heart, 
in the bitterness of its anguish, would too sadly confirm the 
truth of the charge. For, alas ! all his high endowments have 
been perverted, his precious privileges misimproved, the fond 
expectations of devoted Christian friends all disappointed, the 
fair promise of his youth all blighted, and though the rains 
may descend, and the sun may shine, and the dew may fall, 
yet will they never revive again. And without a miracle of 
mercy, the bitter, burning curse of God must pursue him on 
through life, and soon the applause of men must be exchanged 
for that indignation and everlasting contempt which must be 
the portion of the sinner's cup forever. If there be madness 
in the world, is there not madness here ? 

But suppose the picture to be reversed, and instead of those 
gigantic powers urged on to wild and irregular action by the 
fitful stimulus of unsanctinecl passions, you perceive the same 
large capacities calmly, gradually, yet surely developing them- 
selves under the mild influence of gospel truth, adding each day 
fresh knowledge to its stores, and new virtue to adorn its charac- 
ter, pressing forward with the settled energy of Christian reso- 
lution toward the highest perfection of its nature, and conse- 
crating to Him w r ho gave them all, the faculties thus enlarged 
and strengthened, while the blessed power of a pervading 
moral principle is diffused throughout to purify and elevate and 
harmonize the whole. And oh ! if this be a spectacle which 
might call forth the approbation of angels, and excite even the 
reverence of mankind, it is when genius is thus allied to piety, 
the highest intellectual and highest moral worth happily 
united, and the most exalted powers devoted to the noblest 
purposes. On such a one we gaze with admiration, even when 
we do not imitate. And as we stand by his grave and remem- 



THE CHA.RGB OF MADNESS. 



211 



ber his virtues, we cannot but feel bow blessed is the wisdom 
of true religion, and anxiously wish, as did Balaam, may I 
die the death of the righteous, and my last end be like his. 

I cannot but think that some of you are often convinced of 
the madness of your course. That must be a deep sleep which, 
during long years of sin, knows no waking. That must be, in- 
deed, a fearful madness in which there are no lucid intervals, 
in which no light ever bursts in upon the darkened mind, no 
consciousness flashes over the soul, no solemn apprehension 
that all may not be right. Ah, well do I know that such an 
apprehension has sometimes visited each of you. O sinner ! 
cherish it as you would your own life's blood. It is the first 
beam of light on your beclouded soul, the dawn of day on 
your benighted understanding. It is the voice of God by his 
word, his providence, or his Spirit, inviting you to those ways 
of wisdom which are ways of pleasantness, to those paths which 
are paths of peace. Oh, think, with shame and penitence, and 
wonder, on the folly of your past life. God from on high has 
called you to himself. The Saviour of sinners has stretched 
out his arms of love and pointed to his bleeding side. The 
Holy Spirit has offered his saving influences, and yet you have 
despised them all. Heaven is opened to receive you, and you 
heed it not. Hell g°pes to engulf you, you regard it not. 
The thunders of the law peal over your head, the kind and 
tender invitations of the Gospel sound in your ears, yet all in 
vain. Every day may be your last, yet every day is spent in 
sin. Every night may prove to you the beginning of eternal 
darkness, but you coolly and carelessly meet its clanger. Every 
moment is loaded with mercies, and every moment devoted to 
folly. Theretributions of eternity are hurrying on, yet you are 
altogether absorbed in the pursuits of time. Your eternal destiny 
rests upon your own conduct and exertions, yet are you childish- 
ly wasting the hours which alone can secure your everlasting 
welfare. It is as if a general on whose efforts the welfare of a 
nation depended should waste his hours in the childish sports 
of the nursery while his country's destiny hung in trembling 
and fearful suspense. It is as if one should gather gay flowers 



212 



PAUL VINDICATED FROM, ETC. 



and weave bright garlands, and sing merry songs on the very 
edge of a volcano, whose heaving sides and boiling crater 
already told that the danger was at hand, and that the hot 
and liquid lava should soon sweep away in its resistless tor- 
rent, man, beast, forests, cities — faint emblem of the fiery wrath 
which shall hereafter desolate the earth. 

But what place is there for illustiation or comparison ? jNTo 
madness of earth is like the madness of the sinner. It is only 
the light of eternity which shall reveal its true character. It 
is only the agonies of perdition which can measure out its 
greatness. And through the long lapse of its revolving cen- 
turies shall be forced still more and more deeply on the soul 
the fearful consciousness, how great is the folly of him who has 
preferred the amusement of a few days on earth to the rewards 
of the just in heaven. 



IX. 

MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 

Luke, xv. 16. — "And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that 
the swine did eat." 



We have in this chapter a remarkable confirmation of the 
truth, " that God's ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as 
our thoughts." In the commencement of the .chapter we are 
informed, that " then drew near unto him all the publicans and 
sinners for to hear him. And the Pharisees and Scribes mur- 
mured, saying: This man receiveth sinners and eateth with 
them." It was in reply to these illiberal and bigoted mur- 
murers that our Saviour uttered the parable of which our text 
forms a part, as well as the tw r o which immediately precede it. 
All of which are designed to show that, however deep the 
abhorrence, however scornful the contempt, which the self- 
righteous Pharisees might indulge toward those whom they 
were pleased to stigmatize as sinners, there was one, the purest 
and holiest of all, who cherished no such feelings. There was 
sympathy for them in heaven amidst all their degradation and 
ruin ; there was joy among the angels, even over one sinner 
that repented. 

The Pharisees, in the pride of their imaginary holiness, had 
learned to despise their fellow-sinners around, perhaps not 
more sinful than themselves; they shrank from all intercourse 
with them, as they avoided leprosy, as if contact were at once 
defilement and infection : while the Saviour, pure, immaculate, 
exalted as he was, "in whose sight the heavens are unclean, 
and who chargeth his angels w T ith folly," received them to 
himself, mingled in all the intercourse of life along with them, 



214 



MANS CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



and s])ent his days in laboring for their good. Now this dif- 
ference of conduct and feeling is founded on a difference of 
character and views. Mm is ever prone to isolate hhnse'.f and 
his interests: to individualize himself: to separate himself 
from the great community of beings above and around him ; 
to withdraw his thoughts from God's universe, of which he 
forms a part, and to which he bears, and mast ever bear, most 
important relations ; and fix them in intensest selfishness upon 
himself. Hence, for whatever thwarts his interest, or shocks 
his sensibilities, or disgusts his taste, he feels no sympathy 
and cherishes no -regard. But God is the all-comprehending : 
he takes in. at once, the individual and the species, the world 
and the universe. He considers each one a part of the whole. 
He sees in the lost sheep a part of the nock, in the profligate 
son one of the family — in every individual, polluted and de- 
graded as he may be. a soul that he has created. 

This is one out of many cases that might be adduced to show 
that the superiority of the moral system which our Saviour 
inculcated is founded on the superior eniargedness of his views. 
Thus they mutually confirm each other, the grandeur of the 
views sustaining the authority of the moral principle founded 
on them, and the purity of the principle establishing the cor- 
rectness of the views. 

Now it is impossible that man. the limited and the finite, 
should found his moral and religious systems on any other 
views than those which are likewise limited and finite. Hence 
all human systems have aimed to regulate human actions on 
earthly principles and views, omitting those wider relations 
which we bear to other and higher parts of the creation. Such 
systems, founded on earth, can never reach the sky. They are 
as defective as a system of astronomy which, confining its 
attention to the earth, should overlook those other worlds 
belonging to the system, which, though immensely distant, yet 
revolve along with it. and influence materially its movements. 

Xow the Infinite and Eternal One must, from the necessity 
of his being, view all human character and human relations 
under a far different aspect from that under which they appear 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



2 1 5 



to man. Himself infinite and eternal, his views must bear the 
impress of his character. And when such a one appears to 
instruct and illuminate mankind, we must expect to perceive 
the traces of a mind thus conversant with large and universal 
views. And we must also expect that the relations, the prin- 
ciples, the motives which he reveals, shall be universal, infinite, 
eternal — comprehending, ns he does, immensity at a glance, 
present to all time, pervading all space, following on the con- 
sequences of all human actions as they roll with accumulating 
force down to the remotest futurity, and observing the melan- 
choly consequences of the slightest disorder, commencing in a 
minute part, and extending over the whole of so extensive and 
complicated a machinery. We must not be surprised if his 
instructions assume a graver and loftier tone, are urged with a 
solemn earnestness unknown to earthly instructors. We must 
not be astonished if a new and wider scene should open before 
us, actors of greater number, of larger stature and nobler bear- 
ing, and all lighted up with the strong clear light of eternity. 

Now, the whole system of Christian truth is an illustration 
of these remarks. In all its most striking and characteristic 
parts, we behold the deep impress of the same noble and ma- 
jestic mind, familiar with all large and elevated views. And 
we know nothing in the whole history of human composition 
more touching or sublime than the representation given in this 
parable of the origin and destiny of man, his subsequent aliena- 
tion from God, the misery in which he has thus become in- 
volved, the deep interest felt in heaven for his welfare, and the 
kind and parental tenderness with which he is welcomed when 
returning from his wanderings. We all recognize in the prodi- 
gal son a picture of our own folly, and in the father's tender- 
ness, who does not acknowledge the kind and condescending 
mercy of the universal maker and Father of all ? Let us con- 
sider some of these topics in the order in which they have been 
mentioned. 

I. The Origin and Destiny of Man. 

What am I ? And whence ? And whither am I tending ? 
The beasts that rove around and fiercely pursue their prey, or 



216 MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



quietly feed on the green grass, or wander along the calm 
waters, here fulfil their destiny. Am I different from them, or 
only a finer materialism, more happily organized, more inge- 
niously constructed ? Am I the highest of created intelligences ? 
Does the ascending series close in man ? Or are there other 
beings, pure intelligences, and ethereal spirits? "Thousands 
of spiritual beings may walk the earth," and people the sky, 
and yet they hold no intercourse with me. I see them not. I 
hear them not, nor are they palpable to any of my senses. 
And although in the hours of my lonely meditations I seem to 
hold intercourse with them, and have " moments like their 
brightest," yet my daily associations are with the dead matter 
and the brute animals around me, and my nature seems more 
nearly allied to them than to aught that is purer and more 
exalted. He, the Great, the Invisible, the terrible and unknown 
One, shut out from all human gaze by the dazzling glory that 
surrounds him, and baffling all human investigation by the 
untold mysteries of his wonderful existence, He that filleth 
immensity and dwelleth in light that is inaccessible, does be 
look down from the throne of his exaltation with tenderness 
on me ; or am I an incumbrance on his earth, the creature of 
chance, springing up like a mushroom at night, and trodden 
down and forgotten in the morning? Shall I lie down at last 
with my companions, the beasts of the field, in that long sleep 
that knows no waking, or is there a world where the living, 
feeling, and thinking elements within me shall find congenial 
society and suitable employments? 

Such are the anxious inquiries which force themselves irre- 
sistibly on the minds of all thinking, reflecting men. Man has 
always been a mystery to himself, a riddle and a contradic- 
tion. There is in his composition such a mixture of high and 
low, of good and bad, of noble and mean, such a strange com- 
bination of opposing qualities, that some philosophers have 
thought that all his noble feelings were the feeble reminiscences 
of a previous state of being. Others have considered his body 
as unmixed evil, and the necessary source of all his sins. 
While others, again, have supposed his soul to be a fragment 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



217 



from abetter world, forced off by some powerful and malignant 
demon, and imprisoned for a season in its house of clay and in 
this world of sin. Magnificent fiction ! whose extravagance 
one might almost pardon for its beauty, how much superior to 
the dulness of modem scepticism ! Who would not rather be 
this imprisoned spirit, faintly mindful of its origin, and strug- 
gling to attain its liberty, than that heartless, soulless thing, 
where all sense of virtue and purity is lost, where there is 
no remembrance of past innocence, and no sigh after future 
restoration ? 

But after all these anxious and fruitless speculations, here, 
and here only, do we find the truth : we are the children of 
God. Body and spirit, we are his children : he is the former 
of our bodies, and he is the father of our spirits. We were 
created in his likeness at first, " in knowledge, in righteousness, 
and true holiness," and, notwithstanding the ruin of the fall, 
part of that likeness still remains. Defaced and faded though 
they be, yet do there still remain some lineaments of a charac- 
ter which was once pure and heavenly. None is completely 
pure, yet none is utterly abandoned. The veriest slave to lust 
and sin sometimes awakes to a sense of his degradation, and 
longs to burst the chains that bind him. There are some 
gleams of light bursting irregularly forth from amidst our 
moral darkness. There are fragments, even amidst the ruins 
of our nature, which testify to the greatness of the Author, 
and our own original grandeur. Let us then avoid alike de- 
spondency and pride. Though children, yet are we wayward 
and rebellious ; fallen and ruined though we be, yet are we 
children of the Most High : yet doth he who sitteth in 
heaven kindly condescend to have intercourse with us: yet 
doth he permit us to come unto him, and address him as " Our 
Father who art in heaven," and who, though he be in heaven, 
yet looketh down with eyes of pity and compassion on his 
wandering, erring children upon earth, opening wide, to receive 
us, the arms of a father's love, assuring us of a hearty wel- 
come and a rich inheritance, endeavoring to reclaim us to holi- 
ness and happiness and heaven. 

10 



218 



MAX'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SOX. 



Let us learn to bear with and love one another. In each 
one there is a capacity, a susceptibility, for something high and 
noble. It is the perversion of these capacities, and not their 
utter extinction, which constitutes our sin. Let us unlearn 
contempt. It was not made for earth. It has no place in 
heaven. He whom thou despisest may hereafter be thine 
equal and thy friend. He is even now thy brother. Despair 
not of thyself; degraded as thou art, there is still a capacity 
for good within thee ; sold as 'thou art to sin and Satan, it is 
a voluntary bondage. They are not thy rightful masters. 
Thou art the servant, nay, by birth the child, of God. Those 
self-abhorrences which make thee shrink from the society of 
man, that deep and dark remorse which drives thee from the 
mercy seat of God : these are but the convulsive struggles of 
thy higher nature endeavoring to cast off the shameful bond- 
age. It is the sensibility which shows that life and hope are 
there. It is the pain which warns of danger and arouses to 
effort. That very tastelessness of all earthly pleasures, that 
dull satiety which follows sensual indulgences, and makes us 
loathe the very objects of our most ardent pursuit, that reach- 
ing after something higher and better than you have yet en- 
joyed — all points thee upward to thine origin and thine ex- 
alted destiny. 

The very restlessness of this wayward prodigal proved that 
he was in a strange land, far from his father's house, far from 
its quiet pleasures, from its mild restraints, its plentiful, but 
wholesome fare, its social happiness, its accustomed and ap- 
propriate round of duties and enjoyments. But, alas ! remem- 
ber thy capabilities and thy actual accomplishments are alto- 
gether different things. Thine original destiny and thy pres- 
ent condition present the most melancholy contrast. Man 
was the child of God, but he has made himself a son of perdi- 
tion. He was formed in the divine image, but it is so defaced 
and marred that scarce one feature remains by which the 
likeness can be discovered. He was in his father's house, but 
he has wandered away from that holy family, and cast off that 
paternal government. Great were his endowments, but they 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



219 



have all been perverted. Rich was his inheritance, it has all 
been squandered ; high was his station, but it has been aban- 
doned, and now, poor and miserable and degraded, he appears 
the wreck of what he was, with scarce one trace of what he 
might and should have been. Which leads to remark — 
II. Man's alienation from God. 

We are informed that the son, distrusting the goodness or the 
wisdom of his father, or disliking, perhaps, his authority, or 
anxious to assert his own independence, said, " Father, give me 
the portion of goods that falleth to me." And then, so soon does 
sin follow self-confidence, so closely is madness allied to pride, 
" not many days after, he gathered all together, and took a jour- 
ney into a far country." When he had left his father's house, 
he did not pause in his immediate neighborhood, but went into a 
far, very far country. His father's house was the place for him. 
There was honor, as his father's son, a member of his family ; 
there was safety from the wiles of designing men ; there was 
abundance, enough and to spare ; there was employment worthy 
of his character, and suitable to his capacities — to be about his 
father's business ; there was wisdom to guard him against his 
own imprudence and folly ; affection to bear with his weakness 
and faults ; power to protect him from every foe ; purity to 
preserve from corruption, and the soft influence of that do- 
mestic peace and love which, more than wisdom and authority 
and power, mould the heart and soul of man : which is itself 
the deepest wisdom, the holiest authority, the gentlest, but the 
most irresistible power. Oh, how mad is he who, bursting the 
bands that so gently yet powerfully bind him, and casting 
these cords of love recklessly away from him, wanders off into 
a strange land, far from his father's house, and there, forgetful 
of all those kind affections which centre still on him, of the 
gentle form which knelt beside him and taught him to repeat 
childhood's first simple prayer; and of that venerable face 
which, when the evening hour came, glowed with a holy joy, 
as he said, " Come Jet us worship God," and then commended 
all to the care of Him who is the father of the whole family in 
heaven and earth — dashes heedlessly on in his career of sensual 



220 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



indulgences, from folly to vice, from vice to crime, till he, who 
was a father's pride and a mother's joy, is the disgrace of his 
species. He who might have been an ornament to society 
sinks to the level of the brutes that perish. For observe, when 
he wandered away, he went not alone, he gathered all together, 
and wasted all. All that his father's love had given, all that 
his father's care had laid up in store, all his rich inheritance, 
his all was gone. Truly, " one sinner destroyeth much good." 
And may we not here observe a striking analogy to the course 
pursued by each one of us ? Has not each one of us wandered 
away from God ? First, we have laid claim to our father's 
property. We have felt that we were our own, that our 
faculties, our time, our influence, our all, are ours, to use at our 
pleasure. v We have not desired that he should reign over us. 
Restless under the control of his perfect law, we have desired 
to be our own masters ; ungrateful for his present favors, and 
his promised inheritance, we have thought his benefits no 
blessings, so long as his gifts were attended with an obliga- 
tion, so long as the Creator and Upholder of all claims an 
ownership in the works of his hands, and a rightful dominion 
over the creatures of his power. Hence we have left the 
household of his love and obedience. We have wandered 
from his family. At first we designed, perhaps, to remove but 
a short distance, but, step by step, as inclination guided, or 
temptation seduced, or heedlessness misled, we have wandered 
farther and farther away, till we are indeed in a far country, 
at a fearful distance from God. As that wayward son wandered 
from the home of his childhood, no doubt, he passed with 
" mournful steps and slow," and often, as some recollection of 
infancy would cross his mind, or the sight of some familiar 
object, or some well-known sound would call up ten thousand 
images of past delight, the tear would glisten in his eye, and 
his bosom swell and throb with strong emotion. And as he 
stood upon the distant hill, whence he could catch the last 
glimpse of that home of purity and peace, its white smoke 
rising tranquilly in the air, its indistinct murmur borne, al- 
most inaudibly, on the breeze, and the venerable form of that 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



221 



afflicted father still gazing anxiously after him, and praying 
blessings on his head, perhaps his resolution might have 
failed ; but he gazed at his rich treasure, and he summoned 
his youthful pride, and joining the first wayward traveller like 
himself ; he hastened forward, forgetting all, till there was a 
famine in the land. 

Even so it is with you. Ah ! well do I know that the first 
steps in sin are full of sorrow. When you first left your father's 
house, you did not design to abandon it forever, nor to wander 
far, and " many a longing, lingering look did you cast behind." 
You thought, perhaps, to enjoy a temporary freedom, to take 
your station on some eminence near at hand, whence you could 
gaze on one side at all the glories of the world abroad, and on 
the other look down upon that ancient and still respected 
mansion. But pride, fashion, example, ambition, pleasure, 
avarice have led you on till now you are far away. Alas ! 
how far, till at last there is no fear of God before your eyes, 
no thought of God in your minds, no love of God in your 
hearts, no service of God in your lives, and for all the pur- 
poses of a real and practical influence, the case is just the 
same as if there were really no God that ruleth in the heavens, 
and takes cognizance of man. As if the dark tenets of the 
atheist were true, and you had no present lawgiver, and no 
future judge, ah ! attempt not to conceal it from yourself. 
You have gone far away from God, far from the influence of 
his truth, far from the restraints of his authority, far from the 
holiness of his requirements, far from the obligations of his 
law. And you have endeavored to put God far away from 
you, to put from you the invitations of his love, the threaten- 
ings of his wrath, the strivings of his spirit. But though far 
from God, he is nigh to every one of you. Yes, there is, un- 
seen, unfelt, a mysterious and fearful agency above, around, 
within you, pervading all, upholding all, controlling all, in 
whom you live and move and have your being. Ah, how 
shall you flee from that all-embracing presence, or escape that 
all-seeing eye, or go beyond the reach of that all-grasping, all- 
sustaining hand. Let us proceed then to consider : — 



222 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



III. The degradation and misery, which sin has brought on 
man. 

God is light, and when far from him, we must be in 
darkness. God is love, and when far from him, man is the 
sport of all angry and conflicting passions. God is the source 
of blessedness, the fountain from which do flow perpetually 
the streams of joy that make glad the hearts of men. When far 
from him our joy is an earthly current, now dashing impetuously 
forward, and bearing on its bosom the ruins its violence hath 
made, polluted by the soil over which it swept, now creeping 
slowly and sluggishly along, amidst the filth its torrent hath 
accumulated, now still and motionless, its surface glittering 
with the rainbow's hues, while all beneath is stagnant, putrid, 
pestilential. God is infinite in ail his perfections, in wisdom, 
in holiness, in power, and in proportion as we depart from the 
complete symmetry of his most exalted character are we de- 
graded in the scale of intellectual and moral excellence. 

Man was, at first, formed in the image of God. The precise 
import of this remarkable expression, it is impossible for us 
now to determine. But this we know, that he was constituted 
lord of this lower creation, that he was God's representative 
on earth, endowed with high capacities of thought and feeling, 
capable of knowing and loving and rejoicing in God, and 
looking abroad with a devout and intelligent observation on 
the works of his hands. Perhaps we may form some estimate 
of his character and position by observing the purest and most 
exalted of our species in their happiest hours, when the heart 
is liveliest in its emotions, and the mind most vigorous in its 
action. Relieved from the cares that perplex, and the passions 
that agitate, man looks calmly, freely, joyously around, and 
diffuses over earth and sky the calm serenity of his own 
deeply tranquil feelings, the brightness of his own glowing 
thoughts. From the moments such as these we may catch 
some glimpse, however faint : we may form some conception, 
however inadequate, of man's condition in his unfallen state. 
ISTay, do we not feel within ourselves a longing after something 
we do not reach : an inborn fitness for something we do not 



MAX'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



223 



attain ? Are there not transient bursts of thoughts and feel- 
ings, momentary flashes of a flame that is smothered, not ex- 
tinguished, revelations of something unutterably higher, purer, 
lovelier, worthier, than those which occupy our lives ? Is 
there not the deep and solemn consciousness of capabilities, 
far above the power of earth to employ; of infinite desires, far 
too large for earth to fill ? How strong is the proof which 
these afford, that we have fallen far below our destiny and 
have immeasurably degraded our high capacities. 

How various, how extensive, how exalted^ and how pure are 
the sources of enjoyment placed within our reach. All nature 
is spread out before us in its magnificence and beauty, to ob- 
serve and to enjoy. Everywhere there are springs of joy 
bubbling and flowing around us : in the works of God, in 
the society of man, in our own inmost bosom, in the services 
of God's sanctuary now, in the anticipation of his presence 
hereafter, in the study of his blessed Word, and in the joyful 
foretaste of its promised rewards through faith which gives 
present reality to future blessings and commences heaven on 
earth as a pledge of heaven above. Yet how little relish do 
we feel for such pure and exalted pleasure. How greedily do 
we feast on lower and sensual delights. Man did eat angels' 
food, but now he feeds on husks and grovels with swine. He 
lias left the true sources of happiness, and his longing, aching- 
heart now fastens upon whatever will yield a temporary reliei, 
however low and polluting. It is said in the expressive lan- 
guage of the original that the prodigal son was " glued " to 
the people and the things of the land to which he wandered. 
And oh, how closely do we cling to the objects of our un- 
worthy choice. Though convinced of their folly and sinful- 
ness yet do we adhere to them still, though disappointed in 
their promised pleasantness, yet do we cling, with the energy 
of despair, to the delusions which have so long mocked us, 
though resolved, again and again, to abandon them forever, 
to assert the claims of our rational and immortal nature, yet 
do we return again as beneath the spell of some mighty fasci- 
nation. 



224 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



We need not allude to the drunkard, the debauchee, the 
abject slave of sensual appetites or fiendish passions. These 
are the last stage of man's degradation and misery, but all 
the intermediate degrees are alike devoid of genuine and ra- 
tional enjoyment. Man seeks for wealth : he obtains it, but 
finds a vacuum which wealth cannot fill ; honor, but there are 
necessities which titles cannot supply ; pleasure, the cup is 
dashed untasted from the lips or drunk desperately up, spark- 
ling at the brim, but at the bottom dregs and bitterness. The 
horse grazes quietly in his green pasture ; the herds wander 
contentedly by the still waters ; the bird wings his way joy- 
fully through the morning air, or sweetly carols forth his 
cheerful song as the day declines. Why then is man anxious, 
restless, dissatisfied ; why could not the prodigal feed as quietly 
as his swine ? Ah, his nature was different ! what was nourish- 
ment for swine was degradation and misery to him. And let 
me appeal to you all, and affectionately ask, if in all the ardor 
of your sinful pursuits, in the wildest vehemence of your 
young passions, have you not felt the folly and meanness of 
them all? Have you not felt the consciousness of something 
unutterably better thrill over you like the memory of some 
lost hour of bliss, when the stillness of the Sabbath, or the 
fireside of piety, or solitude and sickness have given you 
leisure for honest consideration, or the recollection of child- 
hood's prayers and childhood's simple faith has recalled images 
of purity and bliss now gone perhaps forever? 

How mean then appear all worldly passions : how exalted, 
how pure, how blissful the service of the Lord. The path of the 
righteous grows brighter and brighter to the perfect day. The 
way of the ungodly is not so. The way of the sinner is hard. 
He is going against his own conscience, and, till that power 
is eradicated from his bosom, vain are his efforts to be at peace 
in sin. He is going against his own interests, which are all on 
the side of holiness, against all the higher and better princi- 
ples of his nature. Reason condemns his course as unwise ; 
feeling denounces it as ungrateful and unjust. He is acting 
against God's authority, commandments, and power; and who 



MAN'S CONDITION AS A PRODIGAL SON. 



225 



can contend with Him and prosper? He has cast off that 
" yoke which is easy, and that burden which is light," and 
calls himself free, but he is the bondslave of Satan, who reign- 
eth in the children of disobedience: in abject servitude to all 
the lowest or worst desires of his nature, and at their com- 
mand does he meanly sacrifice peace, virtue, dignity, health, 
happiness, all that is dearest on earth, and his soul's salvation. 
Ah, it is a hard service, the service of Satan ! It is a cruel 
bondage, the bondage to sin. Now for all this, — 
IV. What is the remedy ? 

Your misery and degradation commenced in leaving your 
father's house : the only remedy is in a speedy return. I will 
arise, said the prodigal, and go to my father. And observe 
the process through which he passed : — 

1st. He came to himself, felt the real misery and degradation 
of his state. So must you. 

2d. Reflected seriously on the folly of his course : " How 
many hired servants of my father's have bread and to spare." 

3d. He resolved, I will arise and go to my father, I will act, 
not lament, not despair, not wait indolently for God's mercy, 
but, while God is operating on me, I will act. 

4th. He repented, and confessed. 

5th. Observe the result. 
10* 



X. 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



Mark, viii. 36, 37. — '* For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the 
whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in ex- 
change for his soul?" 

There is no prejudice more hostile to the influences of the 
Gospel upon the hearts of sinners, than that one, so widely 
prevalent among worldly men, which represents religion as a 
dreamy and visionary thing, its most solemn and momentous 
truths as unsubstantial and impalpable abstractions, appealing 
only to excited passions, or a lively fancy, and having nothing 
to do with the plain downright every-day realities of life. 
Now we have been accustomed to view the matter in exactly the 
opposite light, and to suppose, that of all plain things, religion 
was the plainest, and that of the innumerable questions which 
agitate mankind, the questions which it proposes are at once 
the most eminently practical, and require for their solution 
the easiest and the most common of all considerations. 

You are men of business. The question we propose to-day 
is one of prudential calculation, for prudent business men— 
a question of simple arithmetic, of profit and loss, in the busi- 
ness of your lives. It is a question for every man ; a fair ques- 
tion in which no advantage is sought, or can be taken. It is 
but casting up the accounts and striking the balance. You 
boast of the accuracy of your calculations, and the precision 
with which, even in the most complicated settlement, you can 
attain the true result; and how in any offered speculation, how- 
ever attractive or inviting, you are accustomed to try its 
promises by the strictest calculations, and test every delusive 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



227 



appearance by the simple comparison of the profit and the 
loss. Now it is just to such an operation that we invite you 
to-day. We make no appeal to your passions, or your fancy. 
We address your reason, your cool, dispassionate, unbiassed, 
calculating reason. And we ask you to tell us how much he 
is profited who gains the world and loses his soul ; and that 
our decision may be the more accurate, let us consider first, 
What it is to gain the world ; secondly, What it is to lose 
the soul; and thirdly, What it is to lose the soul without 
gaining the world. 

I. What is it to gain the world ? 

We take it for granted at the outset,, that on this one point 
we are agreed, that many among us are really selling their 
souls, and may have already sold them for the world. It is 
impossible, indeed, to observe for a moment the course of hu- 
man affairs around us, without perceiving that of all the forms 
of earthly traffic this is the most universal. Of worldly pro- 
ductions, some trade in one article and some in another. The 
merchant, the farmer, the mechanic, the physician, the lawyer, 
each has wares of his own to dispose of, but the barter of souls 
is universal. There is none so poor, but he has a soul to sell ; 
none so rich or so great, that he may not hope to increase his 
fortune, his power, or his fame by the barter of a gem so pre- 
cious. There is no price so high that Satan will not offer, no 
artifice so mean that he will not stoop to use. The young- 
sell it for vanity, and less than vanity. The old are too often 
already sold, and hug the chains of their dreary servitude. 
Some sell the soul for pleasure, and some for honor ; some for 
money, and some for sensual indulgence ; some for stupid in- 
activity, and some for still more stupid and beastly intoxica- 
tion. Oh, the world is one great market-house where souls 
are trafficked off — are bought and sold. And it is a fearful 
thing indeed, to stand amidst these busy and bustling crowds 
as they hurry to and fro in ceaseless and restless activity, with 
steps light and free, and countenances bright and gay, and 
spirits buoyant and exulting, as if they had achieved some 
mighty enterprise indeed : and then to reflect what shall the 



228 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



end of all these things be, how soon the gloom of death shall 
gather over this scene of folly, and the light of eternity burst 
in and dissipate all its delusion. Ah, there is sickness at the / 
heart when one beholds the maniac expectant of a crown bar- 
ter his rich inheritance for a gilded bauble, and then in driv- 
elling idiocy exult in the wisdom of his purchase. 

And dream not that you can escape the truth of these re- 
marks, by saying that you have never thus bartered away 
your soul. This would be attempting to remedy the folly of 
the past by madness at the present, adding to all your other 
sins the deep and damning sin of hypocrisy : for thou hast not 
lied unto man, but unto God. Ah, wretched mockery ! He 
that formed the eye, shall he not see ? He that made the ear, 
shall he not hear ? He that taught man knowledge, shall he 
not understand ? And think you that he who sitteth high 
exalted over all, whose eyes like a flaming fire pass to and 
fro over the earth, beholding the evil and the good — think you, 
that he is so unobservant of the secrets of your heart, as not 
to perceive, that amidst all those busy and anxious thoughts 
which agitate you daily, the thought of your soul seldom or 
never mingles; or that amongst all the interests which lie 
nearest to your heart, the interests ot your soul are never 
pondered ; that amidst the incessant play of emotions and of 
energies which never slumber; there is no one emotion called 
into exercise, no one energy nerved to action by a high regard 
for the soul; that its interests are postponed to every other 
interest, its happiness jeoparded on the most trivial pretences, 
and this most precious treasure which God has committed to 
your care, is as unheeded as the merchandise which yesterday 
passed from your possession, and to-day has no place in your 
thoughts, or your regard ? 

Now we believe that this whole trade is an unprofitable 
business, that the speculation will inevitably involve you in 
ruin. And we think that we can prove it to your satisfaction, 
if you will only calmly, soberly, and dispassionately consider, 
reason, calculate together. And since we well know that few 
men are ever exactly satisfied with the result of an argument 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



229 



which thwarts their wishes or opposes their habitual conduct ; 
that they are ever prone to imagine some unfairness in the 
premises, or in the train of reasoning ; that they are beguiled 
to admit too much, or to demand too little; as we wish the 
argument of this evening, if possible, to be conclusive both as 
to your opinions and your practice, we willingly grant all that 
you can ask, and will even endeavor to aid you in your efforts 
to extol to the utmost the object of your desire. We care not 
how much you may include in your conception of the world, 
or how bright are the colors in which your fancy may array it, 
convinced as we are that there is something vaster still, before 
which the greatness of the world must shrink in conscious 
insignificance ; that there is a brightness before which its glories 
must fade in dim eclipse, and a blackness of darkness beneath 
whose gloom all its imposing splendor shall be extinguished 
forever. 

What then is the mighty acquisition you long to make, and 
for which you are willing to exchange your soul's salvation ? 
You desire, perhaps, that splendid edifice, that extensive farm, 
that exalted station, that elegant accomplishment. Some 
would be quite content could they accumulate a few thousands 
more, and add to the weight that is now drawdng down their 
souls ; some ten thousand ; some twenty thousand or fifty 
thousand dollars. But, alas ! my friend, enlarge your desires. 
I would not give my soul for ten times the amount. Come 
then along with me, and I will show thee what thou mayest 
aspire to, grasp, and call thine own. Behold that noble palace, 
which proudly towers aloft on yonder distant hill ; walk 
through its stately halls, glittering with gold and purple, 
where the astonished visitor, as each new apartment is 
thrown open to his gaze, is dazzled by some fresh display of 
royal magnificence, surpassing all that had preceded it — its 
princely libraries, rich in the choice productions of ancient 
and modern genius, where calm philosophy sits with quiet and 
thoughtful eye, and towering imagination luxuriates in an 
ideal world ; and poetry, with its thoughts that breathe and 
words that burn ; and eloquence, gently distilling like honey 



230 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



from the honeycomb — its collections of art, where the canvas 
and the marble glow with warm colors, and swell to the fine 
proportions of real life, and the mighty dead live again to the 
fancy and almost to the eye. Behold its hundred menials, its 
incessant festivities, its enchanting prospects by sea and land, 
its territories, extending far as the eye can reach, richly adorned 
by nature and art. Wander over its princely pleasure-grounds 
where art seems the minister of nature, where all that taste 
could desire is added to all that wealth could purchase. The 
productions of all climates are collected : whatever is fair to 
the sight, or pleasant to the smell, or luscious to the taste. 
This lordly heritage shall be yours. Its splendid equipage, its 
polished society, its gay amusements, its ever-recurring fes- 
tivities, where the voice of merriment and music ever peal upon 
the ear and elevate the spirit and the fancy to a state of 
delicious but dangerous intoxication. All this shall be yours, 
if for it you will only give your soul. Do you hesitate ? 

Then ascend with me, and gaze still farther, where the vision 
is lost in the distance, and the horizon is seen resting on the 
blue hills that skirt it. All around is yours. The villages 
whose spires are seen just peeping from the trees, the towns 
whose busy streets are echoing the hum of a thriving and 
industrious population, the whole wide country as it spreads 
around with its rich pastures and its browsing herd, its valleys, 
its mountains, its cities, and its forests — all are yours, if you 
will only fall down and worship the prince of this world, in 
token of homage and of fealty. Do you say No ? Then I 
offer thee a kingdom ; t hou shalt be one of the princes of the 
earth, wealth and power will I give thee, and a proud nation 
for thy subjects. Nay, we will ascend to the pinnacle of 
nature's temple, and look down on all the kingdoms of the 
world and all their glory. All this will I give thee, only fall 
down and worship. The whole world is in one scale, and only 
thy soul in the other. Ah, the world ! it is a tempting offer ! 
The whole world ! It has too much to tempt a feeble mortal. 
It has lofty mountains, glorious valleys, majestic oceans, popu- 
lous cities, splendid palaces, and remains of ancient art. There 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



231 



are paintings that overpower us, music that bewilders, power 
that intoxicates, pleasures that ravish. To the world belongs 
all that delights the fancy, captivates the sense, pleases the 
taste, fills the understanding, fires the imagination, misleads 
the heart. There is gold in its mountains, pearls and diamonds 
in its oceans, wonders in its bosom. That gold shall adorn 
thy palaces, those diamonds sparkle in thy diadem, those 
wonders be admired in thy cabinet. All these shall be thine 
and for thy use. The sun shall rise to illuminate no dominion 
on earth but thine. The winds of heaven shall blow to waft 
thy navies ; the rivers flow to bear thy commerce ; the rains 
descend to fertilize thy soil; and the millions of the earth 
shall live to do thee homage, with bended knee and ready 
service and obsequious devotion. 

There was once a man who seemed almost destined to realize 
this dream of universal dominion. The ruler of the most 
learned and polished nation of the globe, at a time when refine- 
ment and learning were almost universally dirTused, his capital 
the centre at once of attraction and of influence for all the 
earth, where learning and society reciprocally improved each 
other ; learning imparting to society a portion of its own calm 
dignity, and society giving to learning its own fine polish. 
Himself the child of a revolution which shook the world, he 
walked forth over its surface as the embodied spirit of that 
revolution from which he sprang, to subvert and change and 
modify all that he touched. His generals were princes, his 
subjects kings. Feared by the rulers, and worshipped by the 
populace of Europe, he had passed from nation to nation, 
spoiling as he went. Whatever was most precious in modern 
or ancient art, he gathered from the cities of Italy and 
Germany; from Rome and Florence and Venice, from Dresden 
and Berlin, to adorn the galleries and halls of the Tuileries 
and the Louvre. How inconceivably dazzling must have been 
the splendor of such a court, where genius and learning and 
power and magnificence and beauty, all united to east a 
witchery and an enchantment over the scene. Yet he was 
master of only a small portion of the world. The pillar he 



232 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



erected to himself in Paris, and on whose lofty summit his 
own statue stands proudly pre-eminent, is made only of cannon 
taken in the German wars, and overlooks only a single city. 
But thou shalt possess the whole. All its wealth, its elegance, 
its arts, its power, shall be thine. Its literature shall all centre 
in thy capital. Its poetry, its oratory, its music, shall delight 
to proclaim thy praises ; and looking far and wide, over sea 
and land, in the pride of thy heart, thou shalt say all this is 
mine. 

Now I say not how soon splendor loses its charm, how the 
diadem often rests on an uneasy brow, and the purple covers 
an aching heart, how satiety turns to disgust, and flattery 
only calls forth contempt, and how the native feelings of a 
man would often spurn away the animals that fawn and cringe 
and flatter at his feet. Nor need I say how the anxieties and 
disquietudes and dangers of such a government would destroy 
the tranquillity of life ; nor how conscience would bring its 
charges, and disease its agonies, and death claim at last his 
reluctant victim. Of all these I say nothing. Let thy life 
flow on in peace and quiet, calm and glorious as a summer 
evening's sun. "When the sun goeth down it will rise again ; 
but when man goeth to his long home there is no return. The 
sun which shone upon his birth has shone upon his funeral, 
and still shines upon his grave — but where is he ? The sea- 
sons revolve and the year looks gay, but where is he who was 
once the gayest and merriest of all ? The world's machinery 
still moves on, but where is he, the skilful and the mighty 
one, who gave the impulse to its movements and guided and 
controlled and regulated all ? A few short months his menials 
are arrayed in black, and there is all the mockery of unreal 
woe ; and again those halls resound with the dance, the music, 
and the jest. But where is he? The grave is his home; 
corruption his brother ; the worm his companion. The dust 
has returned to dust. The spirit has gone to judgment. He 
sowed to the flesh, and reaped corruption. He sowed to the 
wind, and reaped the whirlwind. He gained the world, and 
lost his soul. 



THE WORTH OE THE SOUL. 



233 



II. What is it to lose the soul ? 

1st. It is to lose that which gives the world all its power 
to charm. It is to lose all beauty and magnificence, all glory 
and excellence. It is to lose all you love or desire, for all 
takes its value from the soul. The soul being lost, all is lost. 
Not merely is it a negative, but a positive loss : not privation 
only, but actual self-torture. Recall to your memory any of 
those scenes from which men usually receive the most intense 
delight — some glorious landscape where we gaze in mute 
astonishment on all the magnificence of nature — as standing 
on the high walls of some city of the Swiss, with its glorious 
valleys spreading far as the eye can reach, and covered with 
the cattle from a thousand hills, its lakes glittering in the 
sunbeams, its steep declivities adorned with luxuriant foliage, 
and variegated with the bright hues of the grape ; its giant 
mountains lifting their heads on high and clothed with the 
accumulated snows of ages ; so glorious, so bright, so pure 
and stainless, that they seem to be the habitations of heaven, 
the temples of the sky, the palaces of angels, the dwelling- 
place of God. Or select some other scene where you may 
dwell with fond remembrance on the endearments of domes- 
tic life, and gaze with rapturous delight around that little 
circle of which you are yourself the life and centre, " where 
heart meets heart reciprocally warm," and every eye beams 
with kindness and love on every other. Or, let it be your 
joy to act upon the stormy theatre of public business, where 
all is life and passion and intense excitement, and man meets 
man in stern and bitter rivalry, to struggle together for the 
palm of power or of fame. 

Now, however lofty, or however ecstatic may be those emo- 
tions which swell and heave within our bosoms when thus 
gazing on the magnificence of nature's scenery, or the quiet 
enjoyments of domestic life, or the mighty exhibitions of in- 
tellectual power on the great arena, where the interests of 
nations are debated ; we ask you to consider for a moment, 
what it is that communicates its interests to all that you 
behold. Were the sun blotted out from the sky, and the pall 



234 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



of darkness spread over all earthly things, all their attractions 
would be gone. All might exist in itself as it existed before ; 
but to you it would exist in vain ; for the light which made it 
visible to your eye, which spread over it the hues of beauty, 
and gave it the loveliness or the sublimity of its proportions, 
would have disappeared. 

But the sun might shine on in his glory, and nature might 
smile beneath his beams, and the hearts of men might rejoice 
around ; and this would all be naught to you, if the eye had 
lost its vision, and the ear its hearing. What would be to 
you the smile of friendship, or the voice of affection, if where- 
ever the sightless eyeballs turned they rolled in vain, and the 
strained ear could catch no accent from the lips it once 
delighted to listen to ? That eye might be uninjured, that ear 
might still retain unimpaired its delicate and ingenious organi- 
zation, each exactly adapted to convey from the world without 
its appropriate sensations. But what would this avail, if 
there were no living and feeling spirit within to receive the 
notices thus conveyed through the avenues of the senses, and 
to pour forth on the dead and lifeless materialism without a 
portion of its own vitality and spirit and warmth ? You 
might walk abroad over this fair earth, and your eyes might 
be turned upward toward this glorious sky, and by the power 
of some artificial galvanism might you be made to perform 
(perhaps) many of the offices and to exhibit many of the 
appearances of a living and feeling and intelligent being ; yet 
would you move only like a corpse amidst the society of busy 
and bustling men — having no part in their joys or their sor- 
rows, their hopes or their fears. No rapture could ever thrill 
along your nerves, or expand your bosom, or pour its full 
warm tide along your throbbing arteries. 

Think then that of all you love most dearly, and prize most 
highly, the soul is the essence. It is the source of all your 
enjoyments in the past, and all your anticipations for the 
future; and remember, that to these the soul imparts all their 
power to communicate delight. The soul is indeed the man, 
and to lose the soul, is to lose himself; it is to lose his all. 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



285 



How foolish then is your speculation. How mad is the game 
you are playing, who thoughtlessly and lightly are casting 
away your souls, that you may gain the world. It is as if 
one should pluck out his eyes, that he might increase the 
pleasures of vision ; or mangle his ears, to increase the delights 
of melody ; or amputate his limbs, for the purpose of relishing 
more keenly the pleasures of some favorite sport. 

But the soul may be lost without being annihilated. There 
may be a perversion of its powers, without their destruction. 
And this perversion may be as much more fearful than its 
annihilation, as the infliction of positive torture is more terrible 
than the simple privation of enjoyment. To put out the e}^e 
would be to annihilate all the beauty of the visible creation. 
But it might be so diseased, that every ray of light which fell 
upon the inflamed and swollen eyeballs would send a shudder 
of agony through the whole system ; or so deranged in its 
organization, that, like a burning-glass, it would concentrate 
all the rays of light into one fiery focus upon the optic nerve, 
scorching and consuming it, while the tortured brain was 
boiling and seething and maddening with the flame. Thus it 
is, that all the blessings of God's providence may be turned 
into curses ; and the gifts of his hand, if perverted from their 
proper use, may be converted into the instruments of his wrath, 
till every avenue for feeling becomes an avenue for woe. 

And thus may the soul itself, that noble instrument of 
thought and recipient of pleasure, be so lost in sin, so wander 
from the great end of its creation, that its immortal faculties 
shall be the ever-living and ever-enlarging source of a misery 
as vast as its own amazing powers ; as eternal as its own ever- 
enduring existence. That imagination which is now the mir- 
ror of the universe, giving back the images of all that is great 
and glorious and lovely in creation, and diflusing the bright- 
ness of its own joyous existence on all around, may become 
the abode of all dark and hateful thoughts, hauuted by the 
most fearful and terrific spectres, cursed with a creative power, 
ever restlessly active, and prolific only in horrors — those 
mighty energies turned away from their appropriate objects, 



236 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



which alone could yield them healthful exercise and nourish- 
ment, turning madly inward on themselves, and crushed by 
their own convulsive struggles until they writhe beneath their 
own self-inflicted tortures ; like that reptile of the East, which 
in the madness of its venom drives its sting into its own body, 
and sinks, and sickens, and blackens, and bursts, and dies, 
beneath the poison which its own fangs have supplied. 

But, 2d. The loss of the soul is its eternal loss in hell. 
The perdition of the soul in hell ! Ah, what a fearful thought 
is this — which pushes far away beyond the limits assigned to 
human knowledge into a land of darkness, of deep darkness, 
like the shadow of death, and ranges wildly there amidst 
images of gloomy horror. What is it ? Ah, no eye hath seen, 
no ear hath heard, no language could describe, no heart con- 
ceive the fearful secrets of that world of woe. No messenger 
has returned to bear the tidings of what he witnessed there. 
No voice has issued from that world of ruin, laden with intoler- 
able woe to tell us of the agonies which Divine justice can 
inflict, and immortal spirits nerved and strengthened by 
Almighty power are able to endure. Yet, as we have some 
beams from heaven, we have likewise some faint echoes from 
hell. Ah ! there are fearful depths in human nature ; some- 
times broken up and laid bare to our view, to make us observe 
and shudder and beware. When some dark spirit rent by 
mighty passion, blackened by secret crimes, haunted by 
terrific recollections, in an hour of hopeless remorse, or in the 
death-bed agony, reveals his deeds of darkness, despairs of 
pardoning mercy, writhes beneath the tortures of anticipated 
wrath, wrestles like a strong man against the foe that torments 
him, till the mind, crushed by its own convulsive throes, drives 
on through life like a dismantled wreck, urged furiously 
forward by demon powers, or bursts madly from its feeble 
tenement, exclaiming : Lost ! lost ! lost forever ! Ah, that 
wandering eye, that flushed cheek, that burning forehead ; 
that lip curled in agony, that brow now knit in grim defiance, 
now quailing in gloomy terror, all bring us to an abyss of 
horror, where reason falters, and the blood curdles as we gaze. 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



237 



And now that restless eye is fixed, and the strained eyeballs 
glare upon some object of his hatred, or his terror, and he 
points yon to the damned spirits that torment Mm, and tells 
you that troops of devils are waiting to hurry him away, and 
asks if you cannot see the hell that is already burning in his 
bosom. And he tosses and writhes beneath the anguish of its 
flames, and gnashes his teeth in fury, and curses God, and 
curses all human kind, and curses his own soul, and dies ! 
Oh ! if this be the foretaste, what is the reality ? u If this be 
done in the green tree, what will be done in the dry?" If 
this be earth, what then is hell ? 

What is a damned spirit ? We are told (but oh, how faint 
is language !) we are told of a worm that never dieth ; and 
we have seen even on earth the commencement of its gnawings, 
the writhings of the victim under its first sting. But there, 
oh, there — it shall gnaw, deep into the heart ; and gnaw, and 
gnaw, and gnaw forever ! We are told of a fire that is not 
quenched. We have seen it kindled here. The first flashes 
of its lurid flame we have shuddered to behold. We have 
seen the first agonies; Ave have heard the first groans of the 
slow consuming victim. But there, it shall rage and glow 
and devour forever. The pile thereof is fire and much wood; 
and the spirit of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone, doth 
kindle it forever. For, saith the Lord, "A fire is kindled in 
mine anger, and it shall burn to the lowest hell, and it shall 
consume the earth, and set on fire the foundations of the 
mountains." Ah, who of you can dwell with devouring 
flames? Who can lie down in everlasting burnings? We 
are told of a blackness of darkness. Its gloomy clouds we 
saw gathering here. But they shall thicken and blacken and 
darken forever, till they settle down in one huge mass upon 
the soul ; penetrated by no beam of light, gilded by no ray 
of hope — but growling fierce thunder over the sinners head, 
and flashing forth lurid lightnings. And remember that this 
shall be the portion of him, who in gaining the world loses 
his own soul. 

Thou may est gain the world for a short time ; but the lo:>s 



238 



THE WORTH OF THE SOUL. 



of the soul is for eternity, eternity ! Mysterious and fearful 
thought ! .How often have I tried to penetrate thy depths, 
and form some faint conception of thy wonders, till my mind, 
overwhelmed by thy greatness, would sink back beneath the 
hopeless effort ! How much lies hidden in thy bosom of fear- 
ful and tremendous import to the sons of men ! Oh, what is 
eternity ? An eternity of woe ! Go ask that unhappy 
wretch who has sunk from a Gospel land to the pit of per- 
dition, and he will tell you there is no language of earth, 
that can convey the thought. Go to that dark and haughty 
spirit, scarred with the thunders of Almighty vengeance, 
confined under chains of darkness to the judgment of the great 
day, and as lie rises to your view and tosses on those fiery 
billows, ask him, what is an eternity of woe ? And he will 
say, there is no term in the vocabulary of hell which can at 
all express its meaning ; that if all its bitterness were distilled 
into one drop, and all its anguish concentrated into one keen 
pang, and all its groans collected into one loud expression of 
woe, and all its fires kindled up, to give it burning energy 
and power, yet it could never tell half the horrors of eternity. 
Oh, on whatever the air of eternity breathes, it assumes a 
new magnitude. Its men become spirits; its days are cen- 
turies; its units are millions. Its joys swell into raptures. 
Its pains burn into madness. There is no progress there ; no 
change, no past, no future : all is one eternal now. Here 
weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning. 
There, no morning ever breaks upon a night that hangs its 
dreary curtains around the sinner's couch of flame forever. 
Here as we toss restlessly from side to side upon our sleepless 
pillow, and long for the morning light, and cry out, Watchman, 
w T hat of the night ? Watchman, what of the night ? We 
hear the answer: The morning cometh and also the night. 
But there no friendly voice proclaims the approach of day; 
but from each wailing companion in torment comes the dread 
assurance, — The night of eternity rolls on : slowly, heavily, 
unchangeably, darkly. The night of eternity rolls on. The 
night of eternity rolls on. 



XI. 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



1 John, ii. 15. — "Love not the worlds neither the things of the world*' 1 



There is in every human bosom some great and absorbing 
passion, and there is some object on which that passion fixes. 
It may lie for a season almost dormant in the bosom, unnoticed 
by the world, and, perhaps, unknown to him who unconsciously 
indulges it. It may be modified by circumstances, and even 
suspended in its operation for a time, while some other passion 
occupies its place. Yet when these circumstances are removed, 
and the mind reverts to its natural state, this passion re-ap- 
pears and resumes its wonted dominion. It is not the same 
indeed in every individual, nor in the same individual at every 
period of his life. The objects which delight us now, may 
hereafter be exchanged for others, more interesting in them- 
selves, or more congenial with our maturer judgment. The 
passions that now agitate and move us, may be succeeded by 
other passions called forth by other objects. But there will 
always be a passion to control us and an object at which that 
passion aims, and it will be true of each one of us, at every 
moment of his future life, as it has been at every period of his 
past existence, that there is some object on which his affections 
are supremely fixed, and which forms the sources of his highest 
happiness. 

And from the very nature of things it must be so. The mind 
is essentially active, and it must have some object on which 
to employ its activities. The affections are constantly going 
forth to find some object around which they may cling, and if 
it were possible that any human being could be entirely dis- 



240 



THE LOYE OF THE WORLD. 



severed from every present object of regard, and find in the 
whole world beside no other on which his faculties might 
fasten, the world would be to him a desolation and a wilder- 
ness. Existence would be a curse, the soul itself a dreary and 
vacant solitude, and the keenest anguish that has ever tortured 
the nerves or sickened the heart of man would be preferred be- 
fore the dull vacuity, the motionless and dead stagnation of 
such an existence. 

Now the objects on which the men of this world have fixed 
their affections, are all worldly objects, and upon them are 
they most intently and closely fastened. From these they de- 
rive their highest happiness, and to these are they supremely 
devoted. They may abandon one object, but it is only to pur- 
sue another. They may renounce one passion, it is only to 
substitute another in its place, and in all the changes of their 
purposes and characters on earth, the same great truth is evi- 
dent, that the world and the things of the world form their 
portion and their hope. The man of ambition may become 
the man of learning. The man of wealth or the man of sensual 
pleasure, may be wearied with the bustle and contention of 
public business, and seek in the privacy of domestic life the 
quiet and happiness he had elsewhere sought in vain. He may 
engage in the pursuits of science, or rejoice in the sublimity and 
beauty of nature's scenery, and in the stillness of his calm re- 
treat, surrounded by all that is grand and ennobling, and far 
from the noise and tumult of the world without, he may enjoy 
the luxury of a purer and more tranquil happiness, and look 
back with pity and astonishment at the objects that once en- 
grossed his attention. And thus having renounced one of the 
world's pursuits, he may imagine that he has renounced the 
world itself, while all his thoughts have centred upon worldly 
objects, and all his heart's devotion has been offered up at the 
shrine of idolatry. 

Now it is this supreme devotion to the world against which 
we object and against which the apostle has raised his warn- 
ing voice in the language of our text. It is not that the 
eye of man rests with delight on all that is beautiful, or 



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241 



magnificent in nature. It is not that the heart of man 
swells even into rapture, in the sweet intercourse of social 
life, and reposes with undoubting confidence on the bosom 
of his friend. It is not that the soul of man, ever ac- 
tively inquisitive, loves to expatiate freely over every field of 
knowledge. Nor is it even that he indulges the inferior de- 
sires of his nature and receives with gladness those gifts of 
providence which are kindly offered. It is to none of these 
that we object. But it is that while we enjoy the gifts, we 
forget the Giver ; that we love the creature more than the Crea- 
tor, and that thus this world, which God has clothed with so 
much beauty and loveliness for our use, on every part of 
which he has poured in such rich profusion the bounties of his 
providence, and stamped the evidence of his existence and 
his presence, instead of leading us up to him as the Creator 
and Preserver of all, has only served to shut out God entirely 
from our thoughts, and involved us in all the guilt and all the 
folly of a practical idolatry. 

It was the peculiar genius of the heathen mythology, that it 
personified every object of external nature, and deified every 
passion of the human mind. To these imaginary deities, it 
builded temples and consecrated priests. To them the sculptor, 
the painter, and the poet were used to devote the finest speci- 
mens of their art ; and the highest efforts of human genius 
were employed to cast a brilliancy and a glory over the basest 
of human passions. Now this idolatry is more obvious and 
palpable ; but is it more real than our own ? It is not the 
building of the temple, nor the offering of the sacrifice, nor 
the bending of the knee, nor the solemn mummery of their 
idle superstition, which gives to their idolatry its most hateful 
and disgusting character. It is because the soul partakes in 
the idolatry; transfers to the objects of its worship the regard 
which is due to God alone. When the man of ambition thus 
engages with restless ardor in the pursuit of worldly distinc- 
tion ; when he sacrifices to the acquisition of this ideal god his 
health, his happiness, and his virtue, and makes this the object 
of his daily thoughts and nightly aspirations, is not his idoia- 
11 



242 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



try as glaring, as gross, as if in the spirit of paganism he had 
formed a golden image of the Goddess of Fame, had elevated 
it to some conspicuous place in his stately mansion, and re- 
paired thither morning, evening, and at mid-day to offer up his 
sacrifices and his prayers ? 

Now it is with every other object of worldly regard as it is 
with the objects of worldly ambition. Wealth, pleasure, ease, 
and social enjoyment, all, when the heart's affections are in- 
tensely and supremely fixed upon them, usurp the place of God 
in the soul, and cast off his rightful authority. And therefore 
it is that we say unto you, in the language of our text, "Love 
not the world, neither the things of the world," for the love of 
the world is idolatry. We may build no temple, we may offer 
no victim, we may burn no incense, and yet may be guilty of 
the most hateful idolatry. We may be ourselves the living 
temples, and the victims too, and our heart's devotion be the 
incense on the altar. And thus may we give to our false gods 
an adoration, more decided and sincere than that of heathen- 
ism itself, and yield to them that peculiar homage which is 
claimed by Jehovah as his own undoubted right. Is it strange 
then that the Bible should so often warn us against the love 
of the world? That he who is jealous of his honor, and will 
not give his glory to another, should solemnly denounce the 
friend of the world as the enemy of God ? And is it not 
right that his indignation should be kindled, and his wrath 
should burn even to the deepest hell, when looking on a world 
like this, so signalized by his goodness and mercy, on which 
he has lavished the riches of his power and his wisdom, and 
his grace, he beholds the hearts of its guilty inhabitants utter- 
ly alienated from him ; and that surrounded as they are by 
his blessings and upheld as they are by his power, in the full 
and vigorous play of all their faculties, and luxuriating as 
they do in the bounties which his beneficence has supplied, 
there is yet no practical recognition of his hand in them; 
there is no returning tide of warm emotion toward the great 
fountain of blessings; but the strong affections of the human 
heart, and the active energies of the human mind are turned 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



243 



altogether from the Creator, and fixed on the creatures of his 
hand ? 

We are often shocked at the follies and cruelties of pagan- 
ism. Behold that crowd of haggard and emaciated beings of 
every age and sex, dragging their wearied limbs along over 
the heated sands, beneath a burning Eastern sun. Many of 
their comrades have fallen since they left their homes, even 
now one and another of their band is sinking to the ground, 
overcome by hunger and fatigue, and the jackals and wild 
dogs of the desert are rushing on their prey, to riot in the 
luxury of living food. There is one who measures the weary 
miles of his long, long pilgrimage by the length of his own 
body laid along the plain, while all around him is whitened 
by the bones of his predecessors, and the hungry animals 
which have fed upon their flesh, are now growling over their 
bones, or crunching them beneath their tusks ; while one and 
another, near at hand, has left his scanty meal, and watches 
with greedy and glaring eyes, the moment when another vic- 
tim shall sink to the earth to rise no more. Such is the crowd 
of pilgrims that gather around the car of Juggernaut. And 
surely it is a spectacle to move a heart of stone. 

But is there nothing in the pilgrimage of human life which 
we behold every day around us, that might serve equally to 
arouse our indignation and our pity? How many of our 
youth daily enter on the pursuit of pleasure, wandering far 
from their father's house, forgetting all a father's solemn 
warnings, and all a mother's tender and beseeching love. 
How many beasts of prey in human form beset their pathway. 
Are there no wrecks of wasted fortunes, and ruined characters, 
and health forever gone, strewed along their course ? And when 
the close of life comes on, who would not rather perish as do 
the worshippers of Juggernaut, whose every limb is crushed 
at once, and every bone is ground to powder by the ponderous 
car, than linger out a tedious existence, which poverty, and 
disease, and ignominy have rendered hopelessly miserable, 
while conscience, with her scorpion lash, stings the soul to 
madness ? And who would not rather stand before the throne 



2U 



THE LOVE OP THE WORLD, 



of God at last, the poor deluded idolater, who, knowing no 
other God, had given his life an atonement for his sins, than 
as the worshipper of pleasure, or the worshipper of fashion, or 
the worshipper of gold, or the worshipper of fame, who, know- 
ing the true God, had cast off his rightful supremacy, and 
knowing the only Mediator, had trampled under foot the blood 
of his atonement ? 

Is there nothing bloody and revolting in that idolatry of 
honor, and of office, which seems to have seized upon the 
whole of our country's population ? Do we not often hear the 
voice of stern defiance inviting to the field of mortal combat ? 
Do not rational and immortal beings shed their heart's blood 
at the dagger's point, and offer up this shocking oblation at 
the shrine of popular applause? And shall such an idolatry 
as this, be practised unblushingly in our land? Shall this 
abomination of desolation stand even at the door of the sanc- 
tuary, speaking great swelling words of vanity, and shall no 
voice of stern rebuke and deep denunciation issue from its 
sacred portals? Then is the spirit of our office gone, and, 
like the priests of old, we have bowed down before Moloch, and 
are partakers in the blood shed in the horrid worship. No, 
my brethren, until this abomination is swept from the land, 
the mild spirit of Christianity can never prevail. But it will 
soon be swept away by the breath of an enlightened and puri- 
fied public sentiment ; and the gathering thunders of a nation's 
loud and righteous indignation shall burst over the head of 
him who sheds his neighbor's blood, whether it be over so 
much pelf as one could grasp in his hand, or so much wind as 
he could not grasp at all. 

Having thus shown that the love of the world is idolatry, 
and that therefore we should not love the world, I proceed 
now to show, that the love of the \oorld rtecessarity prevents 
the attainment of the true Christian character. 

Many professing Christians are perpetually employed in 
the vain effort to reconcile the service of God with the service 
of Satan, and the love of the world with the love of God. 
They have been told, indeed, in God's holy Word, that no man 



THE LOYE OP THE WORLD. 



245 



can serve two masters ; no man can love God and mammon. 
And, although they partly believe the assertion, yet they con- 
sider it a hard saying, because they cannot understand how the 
love of the world is destructive of the true Christian character. 
Now to such, it might save a world of useless disappointment 
and trouble, could we only convince them that there is an 
absurdity in the very object at which they are aiming, a glar- 
ing and palpable contradiction in the whole scheme of their 
lives. There is a constant tendency, my brethren, to lower 
the standard of Christian character; to deface that line of 
separation which divides the church from the world. But if 
there be any design in Christianity whatever, if any thing was 
proposed to be accomplished by the revelation of God's will 
to man, by the mediation and death of his Son; by all that 
wonderful array of miracles and prophecies by which his mis- 
sion was announced at first, and afterward attested ; if in all 
this, there be any design at all worthy of the magnificent 
machinery employed to effect it, this design is to produce a 
mighty revolution in the character of man ; to repair the 
ruins of the fall, and to elevate him to the highest state of 
moral excellence of which his nature is susceptible. 

The method by which this objegt is accomplished is not an 
arbitrary method, but one exactly conformable to the whole 
nature of man. He is not transported at once by Almighty 
power into some new world of holiness and peace, where no 
sin, or trial, or temptation, or sorrow could approach him; but 
he is left in a world where he is exposed to every danger ; he 
is left to fight and struggle with innumerable foes ; his state 
is a state of probation ; and if ever he attains the character 
of the righteous, or enjoys their reward, it is through a long 
process of the severest moral discipline. Now this process is 
begun and completed upon earth. And the character it is 
designed to form, is likewise begun and completed here. And 
the character of the real Christian as portrayed in the Bible, 
is widely different from that exhibited in daily life around us. 
It is a holy and elevated character. His thoughts are fixed 
on some great and worthy object, and he is pressing forward 



246 



THE LOYE OF THE WORLD. 



with determined resolution to attain it. He has embarked in 
a mighty enterprise. He has engaged in a fearful warfare. 
Absorbed in the magnitude of his own great undertaking, and 
confiding in Him who is able to give the victory, he disregards 
alike the dangers and allurements that surround him; and 
summoning all his powers as for some high achievement, he 
tramples the world beneath his feet, and walks amidst all its 
attractions and all its noisy vanities as a stranger and pilgrim 
upon the earth, as seeing Him who is invisible. The example 
of bis Saviour is that which he endeavors to imitate ; the same 
universal and disinterested love to man ; the same humble and 
holy obedience to God ; the same active self-devotion to the 
work he has to do. These are the dispositions he is required 
to cultivate. He is to be daily transformed into the likeness 
of his Saviour upon earth, and to be completely like Him in 
heaven when he shall see Him as he is. As a soldier of the 
cross he is to wage a perpetual warfare against every wrong 
appetite and passion. As a combatant for more than an 
Olympic crown, he is to strain every nerve in the contest, and 
by long and painful self-denial, is to prepare for the victory. 
The arena on which he contends is elevated. The interest 
which attends him is intense. The spectators are invisible 
and holy spirits. And God himself is to give the crown of 
glory. 

Such is the character of the true Christian as given in the 
Bible, and such is the discipline through which he must pass 
before he can obtain the object of his wishes. And does not 
such a representation commend itself at once to the conscience 
and the reason of every reflecting man ? Is it possible that he 
could consider for a moment those large endowments and high 
capabilities with which he has been gifted — possessing a mind 
that wanders through eternity and thinks and feels unutterable 
things, in dignity and intelligence a little lower than the 
angels, and made at first in the image of God himself — with- 
out feeling that some higher destiny lies within his reach, and 
some higher duties devolve upon him even here, than to live a 
slave of appetite and passion, and waste on inferior objects 



THE LOYE OF THE WORLD. 



247 



the whole energies of an immortal spirit ? Now if such be 
the character required in the Gospel, how can it be formed 
and preserved without constant communion with high and holy 
objects? We all know that our minds receive their color- 
ing from the objects with which they are conversant, and are 
moulded to the form and likeness of whatever they embrace. 
They will expand to the largest, and contract to the smallest 
dimensions. Hence the man whose habitual associates are 
vicious and corrupt, who accustoms his mind to be familiar 
with objects, or even thoughts which are impure or debasing, 
becomes utterly degraded and polluted by such associations. 
While he who opens his mind to larger views and better in- 
fluences, who loves the society of holy men and dwells with 
solemn pleasure on the wonderful truths of revelation, feels 
his own spirit refreshed, expanded, exalted by such a contem- 
plation ; and daily, as he becomes more familiar with objects 
and society such as these, will he exhibit more prominently 
in his walk and conversation that heavenly elevation of 
character which they naturally impart. 

Hence we are said to be sanctified by the truth, because the 
contemplation of the objects revealed in God's Word of truth 
naturally purifies the mind. While we gaze upon the Saviour's 
character, though we see him now through a glass darkly, 
yet, beholding his glory, we are transformed into the same 
image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. 
And when we reach his presence on high, "we shall be like 
him, for we shall see him as he is." The glories of his charac- 
ter shall attract our constant gaze, and wrapt in perpetual ad- 
miration, we shall be assimilated rapidly to what we admire. 
And in proportion as we hold communion with him on earth 
shall we transfer to ourselves the lineaments of his character. 
It is not a mere occasional contemplation of religious truth 
which will give to the mind a religious character. Nor is it a 
mere occasional withdrawal of the thoughts from worldly ob- 
jects which can break off from the soul the shackles of its 
bondage. Whatever is the object of our highest regard, and 
our most frequent thoughts, decides our character, stamps its 



248 



THE LOA'E OF THE WORLD. 



image and superscription on the soul, and us for its own. A 
thousand other objects may attract our attention, a thousand 
other feelings may pass over the mind, but they leave no 
deep, abiding impression there. 

If the world, therefore, be the object of our highest regaru 
no transient religious feelings, however sincere and exalted, 
can at all influence our real character. A thousand raptures, 
ecstasies, and joys and lamentations and thanksgivings and 
confessions may pass through our minds and fall from our lips, 
and the charge of worldliness may be against our character, 
and the curse of worldliness cling to all our doings, and even 
those feeble efforts which we sometimes make to think and 
feel on heavenly subjects, and on which we found our hopes of 
heavenly felicity, instead of turning back the current of our 
worldly feelings, may serve only to show the violence of the 
torrent that overwhelms us, and the feebleness of our own 
vain and ineffectual resistance. 

All the blessings which this world can bestow are transient. 
" The world passeth away, and the lust thereof," says the 
apostle ; " but he that doeth the will of God, abideth forever." 
It is this that stamps vanity on all earthly blessings. How- 
ever certain we may be of obtaining them, however much we 
may rejoice in their acquisition, yet we know that their dura- 
tion is short, and that the time hasteneth on when we shall 
take no pleasure in them. Let the young man rejoice in his 
youth. Let the strong man glory in his strength. Let the 
man of genius, and the man of learning, and the man of power, 
and the man of wealth, each plume himself on his superiority 
above his fellows ; and as the eyes of all around are fixed upon 
him, and the gratulations of an admiring crowd meet him at 
every step, let him drink in all the pleasure which can flow 
from such a source. Let no drop of bitterness mingle with 
his cup of enjoyment. Let no rivalry obstruct his career. Let 
no envy depreciate his merit. Let no malice blacken his fair 
fame. Let him stand forth, by the united suffrage of man- 
kind, on the proud eminence of an undoubted superiority. 
Has he beheld with grief the splendid edifice of some wealthier 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



249 



citizen, rising and towering far above his humbler dwelling? 
let there arise as by magic from the earth one loftier still, 
around which shall bloom and twine the loveliest flowers of 
every land, while the dews of heaven shall fall more plentifully, 
and the breath of the morning shall fan it more softly, and 
the evening zephyrs shall murmur more gently around it. Has 
he listened till he wept to the subduing strains of an elo- 
quence he could not hope to rival ? let there come down upon 
him the power of an inspiration which shall raise his fancy to 
a nobler flight, and expand his mind to a larger comprehen- 
sion, and attune his voice to a more bewitching melody, and 
let eloquence distil from his lips like honey from the honey- 
comb. And to the honors which he meets abroad, let us add 
all the enjoyments of domestic life. Let his home be the 
habitation of love, and around his hospitable board let there 
ever be gathered a select band of enlightened and social 
friends ; while he who stood the foremost in every public en- 
terprise, and gathered the admiration of public crowds around 
him, is too the centre of every private circle, and gains a still 
higher testimony to his private virtues and social worth. 

But what will all this profit if it will not last? Those 
social circles shall be broken up. The youth and beauty 
which once crowded those festive halls shall go down to dark 
forgetfulness. Even he who was the life and centre of those 
gay assemblies shall join the nations of the" dead. That 
tongue of eloquence shall be mute in death. That eye of fire 
shall be quenched in darkness. That lofty palace shall crum- 
ble to the earth, and the very name of its possessor shall perish 
among men. Then is there nothing left to man but 44 to lie 
down in cold obstruction and to rot ?" Yes, while the dust is 
returning to dust again, the 44 spirit is going to God who gave 
it." A new world shall then open on our view. New scenes 
shall burst on our astonished vision. Our disembodied spirits 
shall enter on new and untried modes of existence, and, freed 
from the manacles of flesh, shall swell into larger capacities 
both of enjoyment and suffering. Nor eye hath seen, nor ear 
hath heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to con- 
11* 



250 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



ceive, the glory which is here prepared for those that love 
God. 

It is to this world of glory and blessedness that I would 
point you to-day. I would invite you to partake of its glory 
which never fades, to abide in its mansions of eternal rest, to 
seek that holiness without which you cannot enjoy it, and to 
bow before that Sovereign who fills it with his presence. And 
yet to many I know that my invitation will be vain. The 
love of the present evil world hath blinded your minds, and 
hardened your hearts against the Gospel. The lovers of this 
world seem bound to it by some strange spell. The power of 
some secret fascination seems to have charmed all their facul- 
ties, until the voice of reason and experience, as well as the 
voice of God, falls unheeded on their ears. In spite of all that 
we have known ourselves, and heard from others, we still be- 
lieve that the world is a satisfying portion. We listen to its 
promises, and with eager expectation grasp its unsubstantial 
pleasures. There is none so stupid as not to perceive in his 
moments of serious reflection that it is all delusion, but it is a 
sweet delusion, and he willingly resigns himself again to its 
soothing influence. There is none who has not been some- 
times rudely awakened from his dream of worldly happiness 
to gaze upon the reality of truth. But he soon composes him- 
self softly to his repose, enjoys the same visions, pursues the 
same shadows, clasps the same phantom forms to his bosom, 
starts from his slumbers, finds it all a dream, and sleeps again. 
And this is the business of life, the employment of those three- 
score years and ten bestowed on rational and immortal beings, 
for the purpose of securing everlasting happiness. Nothing 
could show more plainly the extent of that moral derange- 
ment, which has passed upon every individual of our species, 
or which exhibits more affectingly the nature of that fearful 
bondage, wherein the prince of this world has enslaved his 
infatuated votaries. Against such a delusion human reasoning 
and human eloquence are employed in vain. None but the 
Spirit of God can reach a case so desperate. Nothing less 
than the Almighty power can break the deep slumbers of the 



THE LOYE OP THE WORLD. 



251 



spiritual death. It is in humble dependence on this divine as- 
sistance that I will now invite your attention, my dying fellow 
sinners, to a few plain and serious considerations. 

Consider then, in the first place, how many millions of men 
there are now in the world pursuing the same expectations of 
worldly happiness, of wealth, of distinction, health, and long 
life, and inquire honestly of your own mind, how many of all 
these will ever attain the object at which they aim ; how many 
will be cut off in the midst of all their schemes, and called to 
the bar of God ; how many will linger through a long life of 
poverty ; how many will fall short of that distinction after 
which they aspire, or that wealth they anticipate, and pine 
away in the agony of disappointed hope, or writhe under the 
gnawings of self-devouring envy, or wither under the conscious- 
ness of neglected worth. Of the eight hundred millions now 
upon the earth, how many do you suppose will attain even a 
moderate portion of that worldly happiness they expect? And 
even among the most successful, who will attain the half that 
he anticipates ? What reason then have you to expect a dis- 
pensation from the common lot, and success in all your wishes, 
while others fail ? Consider again, how many men have lived 
since the creation of the world, in the six thousand years that 
are past. We are lost in endeavoring to think of their num- 
bers. Millions piled on millions fail to make the mighty sum. 
But when we endeavor to think of the schemes and plans and 
hopes which agitated each of them in his short and busy day, 
what a scene of restless activity is opened before us. All this 
activity is now quiet in the grave. Generation after generation 
has passed away from the earth, and we are permitted calmly 
to review their conduct, and learn wisdom if we will from such 
a retrospection. 

What then is the lesson that we learn from the experience 
of ages ? What inscriptions do we read on the sepulchres of 
dead millions? Is it recorded of ambition that it always 
reaches its goal ? Did genius always wear the crown it 
merited ? Did hope never promise what time refused to be- 
stow? And when all that heart could desire was attained, 



252 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



has the soul of man rejoiced in the mighty acquisition ? Very 
different is the record there inscribed. It is the record of 
crushed hopes, of blighted prospects, of joys which bloomed 
but to wither, of pleasures which long eluded the grasp, and 
when caught at last, turned into disappointment and satiety 
in the embrace. Oh, would we receive instruction from the 
experience of our fathers, how might each successive genera- 
tion become wiser than that which preceded it. But though 
one generation passeth away and another cometh, the fallen 
nature of man remaineth the same. New actors come upon 
the stage, but the farce of human folly, and the tragedy of 
human disappointment are re-enacted in wild confusion over 
the dust of our sleeping ancestors. But if we neglect the 
experience of others, why should we disregard the lessons of 
our own ? There is not one that hears me now, who has 
not seen enough in the little circle of his own acquaintance, 
and felt enough in the secrecies of his own bosom, to con- 
vince him thoroughly that the world has no certain nor sat- 
isfying portion to bestow. There is none who has not felt 
the shock of disappointment, or the loathing of satiated de- 
sire. Who has not seen his brightest expectations overclouded, 
his most deeply cherished hopes all disappointed, his tenderest 
affections wounded in their tenderest point. But when all has 
been bestowed that the world could give, who has not felt that 
this is insufficient ? In the wildness of mirth, in the excesses of 
sensual pleasure, amidst the loud applause of admiring thou- 
sands, man is not satisfied. The soul cannot feed on husks like 
these. Debase and brutalize it as you may, it is a spirit still, 
and despite all your efforts it will rise and reassert its nature 
and its origin. It is endowed with a capacity for enjoying God, 
and can never be satisfied with inferior good. And hence it is 
that sinners pass so tediously and painfully through the world. 
There is a constant struggle against all the better principles 
of their nature, against reason, and conscience, and the immor- 
tal spirit within them. 

What a fearful struggle is this ; yet it is going on within the 
bosom of every sinner. Yes, sinner, conceal it, deny it as you 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



253 



may, the thin disguise of outward merriment hides it not from 
the eye of man, how much less from the searching glance of an 
omniscient God. How foolish, then, to love the world, whick 
after all gives no real happiness, while we reject our kind and 
merciful Creator, who is able to satisfy the highest desire of 
the soul which he has made, " in whose presence is fulness 
of joy, and at whose right hand are pleasures forevermore." 
Place yourself amidst the happiest circle of the most promising 
youth of both sexes. They have never yet known sorrow, or 
experienced disappointment. The world lies fresh and un- 
trodden before them, and as far as the eye can reach, hope gilds 
the prospect with the brightest colors. One hopes for wealth, 
and before her mind forever rolls the splendid equipage, the 
costly apparel, and the elegant apartments of the rich. Another 
hopes for honor, and his eye brightens at the thought of the 
bar, and senates, and assemblies, and his own voice swelling 
high above the rest, and guiding the tumultuous passions of 
the people. Another dreams of health and youth and beauty 
and social comfort long-continued, and thinks this happiness 
enough ; while another, more quiet still, pictures the still re- 
treat, the comfortable fireside, the cheerful friend, and all the 
accompaniments of domestic peace. Now follow them if you 
can through their various fortunes in their future life. Will 
not youth decay ? Will not beauty fade ? Will not that 
bright eye be dimmed ? Will not that manly voice be hushed 
in death, or enfeebled by disease, or overborne by party vio- 
lence ? Or who can tell the thousand misfortunes which meet 
them in the path of life, and bring poverty, or shame, or social 
misery upon them. How many commenced the career of life 
along with Caesar, with the same bright hopes and the same 
ambitious views. A mother's fondness destined for them the 
same eminence, and a father's fond pride promised the same 
high success, and the kind voice of many an applauding friend 
cheered them on their way. But who among them all trod 
the same path of glory? And yet how dizzy was the pinnacle 
on which he stood at last, and how soon did that dominion end 
in blood, which years of toil and dangers and bold ambition 



254 



THE LOYE OF THE WORLD. 



had just secured. Nay, the great globe itself shall be de- 
stroyed, the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and earth's 
last garniture shall be its winding-sheet of flames. 

And is this nothing but a scene where imagination riots and 
reason reels ? Think you that he who made the world, cannot 
destroy it? Are there no instruments of wrath laid up in the 
great store-house of the Almighty's indignation against the day 
of final retribution ? In the very bowels of the earth on which 
you tread so securely, are the hidden elements which, brought 
together and pent up within its shell, would melt its solid 
rocks, and heave its quaking mountains, and by one vast ex- 
plosion shatter it to fragments. The very air you breathe, if 
partially decomposed, would yield a substance which taking 
fire from a lighted lamp, would spread a universal conflagra- 
tion, and which, even when prepared by the chemist's skill, and 
issuing in the smallest current from his laboratory, dissolves all 
earths and minerals, and causes the hardest steel to blaze and 
sparkle like the burning brand. 

Thus as God has placed in every sinner's bosom the elements 
and the forebodings of future misery, so has he placed in the 
material world around us the sources and the forewarnings of 
its coming dissolution. But, alas ! how deaf are the men of 
this world to the voice which thus comes to them from the 
word and the works of God. They would not believe though 
one should rise from the dead to tell them. And therefore 
shall this day of the Lord come as a thief in the night. None 
shall be expecting it. But, as when the deluge came, the 
affairs of this world shall be rolling on in their accustomed 
course, and the current of this world's occupations, pursuits, 
and pleasures shall be drifting men as far away from holiness, 
happiness, and heaven, and impiety shall lift as bold a front as 
ever. The Atheist shall be proving that there is no God. The 
Deist shall be asking, Where is the promise of his coming ? 
The Socinian shall be proving that the Lord of Glory is no 
better than a man. The youth in the ardor of his untamed 
passions shall be urging on his chase of pleasure; and the 
maiden in the pride and confidence of charms, alas ! too much 



THE LOVE OF THE WORLD. 



255 



admired and too falsely flattered, shall be distributing around 
the tokens of her favor. The man of ambition shall be press- 
ing forward in his hot career of glory ; and the conqueror shall 
then be driving his car of triumph over prostrate nations, 
while the wail of oppressed millions fails unheeded on his ear. 
The thief shall be stealing through the twilight to seek his 
neighbor's goods, and the murderer shall be wiping from his 
brow the stains of blood, and the duellist shall be aiming 
his weapon at a brother's heart — when suddenly, as in the 
twinkling of an eye, shall be heard the trump of the archangel, 
and the voice of God. Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be 
lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall 
come in. Who is this King of Glory ? The Lord of hosts. 
He is the King of Glory. And is this he who was born in 
Bethlehem ? Who was clothed in flesh, who was despised and 
spit upon, who was crucified and slain ? Yes, this is he, O 
sinner! who died that you might live. Who shed his own 
precious blood on the cross for your salvation. And now he 
is sending you the oflers of his mercy, and entreating you with 
condescending kindness to be reconciled to God. But then, 
oh, how changed. His wrath is kindled into fury, and his 
mercies are clean gone forever. Vain, then, are the entreaties 
of the sinner. No voice of mercy answers to his prayer. But 
from the great white throne issue forth thimderings and light- 
nings, and a voice which says, Because I have called and ye 
refused, I stretched out my hand, and no man regarded. But 
ye have set at naught my counsel, and would none of my re- 
proof. I also will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your 
fear cometh, when your fear cometh as a desolation, and your 
destruction as a whirlwind. Then shall these go away into 
everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal. 



XII. 



THE GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



Luke, xiv. 18. — "And they all with one consent began to make excuse." 



The revelation which God has given us was made in human 
language, and adapted to human understanding, that it might 
gain an entrance into the human heart, and exert an influ- 
ence over the conduct and character and destinies of man. 
With the same benevolent design our Heavenly Father has 
condescended still more to the weakness and imperfections of 
our nature, and lias accommodated the language of his word 
to the circumstances and relations of daily life, and the feelings 
and affections which these various circumstances are calculated 
to excite. Thus the high truths of religion are brought 
down to the level of the human understanding, and urged 
home with more affecting power even to the hardest heart, 
when illustrated by the commonest occurrences of life, and ap- 
pealing to all our tenderest sensibilities. 

Now this is the design of the parables, so often employed in 
the Bible, to teach us something that is unknown, by compar- 
ing it with something that is familiarly known and with which 
we are every day conversant, teaching us heaveniy things by 
comparing them with earthly things, giving us some faint idea 
of our relations and duties toward our fellow-creatures. And 
this design is most admirably accomplished by the parables of 
the Bible; so that the truth which is meant to be conveyed, 
is not only brought home more affectingly to the heart, but is 
represented likewise more vividly to the understanding than 
could possibly be done by any mere verbal representation. 
How instructive, and at the same time how affecting and con- 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN, ETC. 



257 



descending, is the language of tlie Bible, when God represents 
himself as the Father of the human race, and permits us to come 
unto and call him, " Our Father who art in heaven ; " and 
who, though he be in heaven, yet looks down with pitying 
compassion on his wandering, erring children, and desires to 
reclaim them to himself, to holiness, to heaven, and everlasting 
happiness ; opening wide to receive us the arms of a father's 
affection, assuring us of a father's welcome, and a rich inher- 
itance. 

It is impossible, we imagine, that any man could read, with 
the slightest attention, the parable of the Prodigal Son, without 
feeling more deeply, at the close, the wisdom and duty of re- 
penting and turning to God, and being more thoroughly con- 
vinced than he had been before that God is willing to receive 
the returning prodigal. While he pictures to his mind the 
misery and want of the wayward child, his obstinate persever- 
ance, his downward course, even when beggary and ruin stared 
him in the face, his slow repentance, his reluctant determination 
to return, his hesitating, lingering, doubting, trembling ap- 
proach to his father's house, overwhelmed with shame, ema- 
ciated with hunger and disease, corroded by remorse, with 
scarce a rag to conceal his nakedness, and none to veil his sor- 
row and disgrace ; and then beholds his father, all tenderness 
and love, forgetting the fall of his child, and remembering only 
his repentance and his distress, rushing forth at the first new T s 
of his approach, welcoming that tattered beggar to his house 
and to his heart, falling upon his neck, weeping, and kissing 
him, and with all the fondness of a father's affection, crying 
out, "My son was dead but is alive again, was lost but is 
found." We say, that no individual can read such a represen- 
tation as this, if he has ever known the gushings of those warm 
affections which flow from father to son, and from son to 
father back again, and doubt for a moment that these are the 
real feelings of the Father of the universe to our fallen family, 
and that no language which the human mind has ever in- 
vented could express so forcibly as the simple parable the deep 
instruction it was intended to convey. 



258 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



But of all those figurative representations which are em- 
ployed in the Bible for the purpose of recommending the truth 
of God to the understandings and affections of men, there is 
none more frequently used than that which describes the salva- 
tion of the Gospel, as a provision for the wants and necessities 
of men, as food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, a great 
feast richly provided and freely offered to all, a fountain of 
living waters, a stream which never fails, a mighty river 
springing from the throne of God, whose gushing waters are 
clear as crystal, and on its banks is the tree of life, whose 
leaves are for the healing of the nations. By such representa- 
tions as these, the abundance of the provision, the freeness and 
sincerity of the invitation, and the spontaneous kindness of the 
provider, are forcibly displayed. 

Thus, in the parable just read, we are told that a certain rich 
man, who was fully able to bear the expense and insure the 
abundance of the provision, prepared a great feast, one suitable 
to his wealth and station, and to the number of the guests in- 
vited, and then sent his servants to call the guests. " But 
they all with one consent began to make excuse." Now the 
conduct of the guests who were invited, is intended, no doubt, 
to represent the conduct of mankind, who are invited by the 
great king of heaven to the rich provisions of the Gospel, and 
yet most of them decline the gracious invitation. Let us 
then spend a few moments in considering, First, The strange 
fact that men endeavor to excuse themselves from accepting 
the offers of the Gospel. Secondly, Notice some of their 
excuses. Thirdly, The danger of thus rejecting the offers of 
the Gospel. 

I. Let us consider the strange fact that men, almost univers- 
ally, endeavor to excuse themselves from accepting the offers 
of the Gospel. 

To one who believes, indeed, that there is a God, the most sol- 
emn and tremendous of all questions is, whether he is the friend 
or the enemy of man. Whether he who sits far off, in un- 
created light and glory above the sky, shut out from all human 
gaze by the unapproachable brightness which surrounds him, 



EEJECT THE GOSPEL. 259 

and baffling all human investigation by the untold mysteries 
of his wonderful existence. Whether the terrible and unknown 
One looks down upon this world of ours with kind and pitying 
affection, or frowns us away from his presence as the objects 
of his holy indignation. This is a question which has pressed 
most heavily upon the minds of men, in all ages and all regions 
of the world, and in every condition of human society. It has 
been reiterated again and again, with fearful solicitude, for 
ages past, and is still propounded with undiminished anxiety 
at the present day. It has agitated, it must, at some period 
of his existence, agitate the bosom of every reflecting man. 
The philosopher has asked it, as he walked with grave and 
solemn tread over the halls of science, musing much and 
deeply. The savage asks it, as he roams over his native 
forests, and gazing on their wild magnificence, beholds in the 
works around him the traces of the great and unknown Spirit. 
The man of pleasure asks it, when in some hour of intermitted 
merriment his conscience calls up the memory of wasted hours 
and riotous excess, and stamps upon all his pleasures, vanity 
and vexation of spirit. The man of sorrow asks it, as he re- 
counts the story of his multiplied afflictions, or tossing upon 
his bed of long disease, feels in his withering frame the heavy 
pressure of a hand more mighty than his own. The living 
ask it, when they behold the ravages of death around them ; 
and the dying ask it, w r hen the dust is returning to dust again 
and the spirit is going to God who gave it. 

The question is one to which the human understanding, un- 
aided by light from heaven, has never yet offered any satisfac- 
tory reply. After all our inquiries it must x still remain in- 
volved in the darkest mystery, surrounded with the most 
perplexing doubts. We may look abroad indeed upon the 
mighty works of God, and see upon them all the impress of a 
power which is infinite and irresistible ; but whether this 
power is indifferent, or friendly, or hostile to our race, is not 
revealed by the works of nature. The sun, as he shines in his 
glory, and the moon, as she walks in her brightness, and the 
thousand stars which twinkle in the sky, may tell that the hand 



2C0 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



which made them is divine : but they have no speech, nor lan- 
guage, to reveal the high designs of the mysterious Creator. 
If we observe the course of God's providence on earth, all still 
seems dark and inscrutable. If the happiness which is enjoyed 
by man, seems to prove the kindness and regard of our Crea- 
tor ; the misery which is spread so widely over the face of 
our earth, would lead us directly to the opposite conclusion. 
If every balmy breeze which wafts health and joy to our 
habitations, and every human heart which throbs with high 
delight, is an evidence that he who directs the wind and who 
formed the heat is merciful and good ; then every desolating 
whirlwind, and every pestilential vapor, and every sob of 
agony, must throw a sickening uncertainty over the whole 
of our conclusions. And then there is the consciousness of the 
whisperings of that inward monitor, which points to a day of 
coming retribution, the fearful looking for of judgment and 
fiery indignation, which, like a strong man armed, lays hold of 
every human bosom, and, struggle and wrestle as we may, 
maintains its lodgment there, till in man's last sad extremity 
its triumph is completed, and the departing spirit, even before 
it leaves the body, feels that its destiny is fixed. 

Thus it is that the mysteries of providence, and the con- 
sciousness of guilt, cast a fearful uncertainty around every 
question which concerns the mutual relations of God and man. 
We feel that there is a mysterious agency within us and 
around us, pervading all things, sustaining all tilings, in whom 
we live and move and have our being, a power which no 
wisdom can elude and no force resist; and while we remember 
that he is infinitely holy, the recollection of our sins must rush 
into our minds, and bring home upon us with redoubled inter- 
est the anxious question, " Can God be reconciled to man ?" 
Now suppose we were informed, in the midst of this perplexity 
and doubt, that God himself had resolved to answer the ques- 
tion, and to reveal himself in his true character to the children 
of men ; with what anxious and breathless interest would we 
await the expected revelation. Will he come in flaming fire 
to take vengeance on his enemies, clothed in the robes of jus- 



REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



2G1 



tice, and armed with the thunder of Omnipotence ; or will he 
appear iu the gentleness of heavenly compassion, as the friend, 
and father, and Saviour of our race? Fearful indeed would be 
that hour of dread suspense, and scarcely less terrific than that 
day of righteous revelation, when the assembled families of 
men shall stand before the throne of the Eternal, and hear the 
last unchangeable decision. 

But should the messenger that comes from heaven, proclaim 
his character as the Lord God, merciful and gracious, who de- 
lighteth not in the death of a sinner, but would rather that he 
should turn and live — should the message be one of unut- 
terable love, and the messenger that bore it, his own beloved 
Son ; how soon would we expect to find that the anxieties and 
fearfulness of men were converted into wondering, and adoring, 
and rejoicing affection, and to hear, from every family on earth, 
and from every human bosom, the glad songs of thanksgiving 
and praise to him who ruleth in heaven, and yet so kindly 
condescendeth to have intercourse with men. Now just such a 
revelation given to mankind in those very circumstances of 
doubt and terror, which we have feebly endeavored to de- 
scribe, is that which is made in the Gospel. In this, God has 
still more abundantly manifested his love toward as, because 
he was not only willing to be reconciled to man, but to pay 
the price of reconciliation too ; that while we were yet ene- 
mies against him, he freely delivered up his own Son, on our 
behalf, to die, that we might live; and now the proclamation 
of pardon through his blood is made to every son and daughter 
of Adam ; and we this day beseech you, in Christ's stead, to 
be reconciled to God. 

Yet how vainly is the Gospel proclamation made, how 
lightly is the Gospel message heard, how often must the min- 
ister of the Gospel take up the lamentation of the prophet and 
cry out in the bitterness of his soul, "Who hath believed our 
report?" "For they all began with one consent to make 
excuse." 

We go to the young man in the commencement of life, who 
is just entering on his career of giddy pleasures and gay 



262 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



amusements : and we tell him that his pleasures will at last 
bite like a serpent, and sting like an adder ; that they will 
pierce him through with many sorrows ; that they are at best 
transient, uncertain, unsatisfying. We point him to those 
higher and better pleasures which endure forever, and nil the 
largest capacities of the soul, in the presence of God, where 
there is fulness of joy, and at his right hand, where there are 
pleasures forevermore. The thoughtless youth passes heed- 
lessly along, and scarcely pauses a moment to exclaim, " I 
pray thee have me excused." He embarks on his voyage of 
pleasure; the stream wafts him smoothly along, till at last he 
disappears from our view; and the rainbow colors, whicli had 
caught his fancy and allured him to destruction, still overhang, 
in silent beauty, the dreadful cataract where his bark was 
crushed. He is gone, and we turn with sad solicitude to the 
man of middle age, who had watched with us the wild career 
of the unhappy youth, and shuddered at the horrid spectacle 
of his untimely end. He is deeply immersed in worldly cares, 
in the pursuit of honor, or of wealth. He acknowledges the 
folly of his early pleasures, and mourns the disappointment of 
his early hopes; but still he makes gold his confidence and 
fine gold his trust ; or living on the breath of popular applause, 
and making it the god of his political idolatry, he takes the 
world for his portion, and gives to the god of money, or the 
god of fame, the tribute of his heart's devoutest adoration. 
But in vain do w r e offer to him the riches w T hich shall never 
perish, the glory and honor which shall never fade. Even 
heaven's crowns, which shall brighten forever on seraphic 
brows, are unnoticed and despised in the ardor of his hot pur- 
suit after earthly things ; and impatient of the slightest delay 
or interruption, he replies to the most affectionate expostula- 
tion, " Really, sir, you must have me excused." 

We go to the old man, just trembling on the brink of the 
grave, and while we sympathize with all the sorrows of his 
age, and mourn over the spectacle of one about to desert his 
all on earth, with no portion laid up in heaven ; we point him 
back to the vanities of his life, and bid him look forward to 



REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



263 



that life above which shall never terminate, to a youth of im- 
mortal vigor, and undecaying glory, where sickness and sor- 
row shall flee away, and all tears shall be wiped from all eyes. 
But while we press upon his thoughts, the necessity of imme- 
diate preparation for a change so near at hand, and a state of 
such unspeakable felicity, he hears with impatience our affec- 
tionate entreaties, turns back his wishful eyes upon the world 
which has so long deceived him, and, with the last trembling 
accents of decaying nature, exclaims, " I pray thee have me 
excused." We turn away in melancholy disappointment, but 
scarce have turned away, when another messenger arrives, of 
sterner aspect and more severe commands. Death brooks no 
delay ; and the last faint excuse dies away, before it can be 
uttered by his trembling lips. 

Now thus it is, that the Gospel is carried around to all the 
families and all the individuals of our land. It passes from house 
to house, and from heart to heart, knocking at every door, and 
seeking an entrance, but meeting continually the same chilling 
and repulsive answer, "Go thy way for the present, I pray thee 
have me excused." How wonderful is the forbearance and 
long-suffering of God, in thus enduring the contradiction of 
sinners against himself, and mercifully repeating those gracious 
invitations which have been so long despised and so haugh- 
tily rejected ; and how strangely foolish is the conduct of 
men ! From what do they wish to excuse themselves ? From 
sin ? from misery ? from hell? No, they freely indulge in sin ; 
their paths are encompassed with misery, their steps take hold 
on hell, and lead down to perdition. They seek to avoid the 
favor and service of God, the approbation of a peaceful con- 
science, the society of the blessed in heaven, present happiness 
and future glory. 

II. Let us, however, examine for a moment some of these 
grave and weighty reasons by which men endeavor to quiet 
their own conscience, and ward off the expostulations of others, 
when urged to give an immediate attention to the Gospel 
offers. 

The first and most usual is the pressure of worldly business, 



264 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



the attractions of worldly pleasure, the pursuit of worldly 
honor, or the obligations of worldly connections. These ex- 
cuses may seem to be different in character and to come from 
different men ; but they are all the same in principle, and are 
founded on the settled determination to enjoy the world in 
some one of its various forms, and not to permit the concerns 
of religion to interfere at all with their worldly plans. Whether 
they aim at the accumulation of wealth, or the acquisition of 
honor, or the indulgence of ease or social feelings, the principle 
is the same. 

The train of thought which the sinner indulges upon this 
subject, seems to be simply this : I live, says he, in a world 
which God has made, which he has richly supplied with every 
thing necessary to sustain my lift*, or minister to my enjoy- 
ment. On every thing around me are the traces of his power, 
the monuments of his goodness, the evidence of his presence. 
I am myself, indeed, but the creature of his hands. This hu- 
man frame, so fearfully and wonderfully made, is the product 
of his power. The eye which opens with delight upon all na- 
ture, and by its delicate and skilful mechanism holds myste- 
rious intercourse with distant worlds; the ear which delights 
with harmony, and listens to the language of friendship and 
affection ; the soul which feels, and thinks, and rejoices in the 
kindness of social affections and the tenderness of social rela- 
tions — these are all the workmanship of his skilful hand. 
Surrounded, as I am, with so many blessings, and endowed 
with such capacities for enjoying them, I am determined what 
I will do ; I will improve, to the utmost, my short opportunity ; 
I will indulge the body, and forget the soul ; I will live like 
an atheist who denies a God, or like a brute that never knew 
one. Drink deeply of the streams of his beauty, but never 
look upward to the fountain from which they flow. Bury my- 
self amidst the mute and lifeless materialism around me, while 
I forget the great and everlasting spirit who gave to this ma- 
terial creation all the beauty and all the attractions it possesses. 
Riot on the gifts of his providence, Avhile I forget the giver ; 
and use the goodness and long-suffering of Go I to embolden 



REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



265 



me in sin. I will harden my heart by the very means which 
were designed to soften it ; and that the benefits of my de- 
termination may not be confined to myself, the wife whom I 
have taken to my bosom, the children of our mutual love, the 
friends of my early years, shall enjoy the benefit of my ex- 
ample, and reap along with me the fruits of my approaching 
harvest. And what shall that harvest be ? Let me answer in 
the language of God's Word, " He that soweth to the flesh, 
shall reap corruption ; he that soweth the wind, shall reap the 
whirlwind." He that endeavors to excuse himself from his 
duties on any of these grounds, does deliberately choose the 
world for his portion and reject the salvation of his soul. 

But what will the world profit him if he shall lose his soul ? 
Suppose that he succeeds in all his enterprises, even his most 
ardent and extravagant calculations. Let wealth flow in 
upon him by a thousand channels. Let honor place him upon 
her highest pinnacle ; and in the full exercise of all his powers, 
with nerves that tremble not at his lofty elevation, and a mind 
that comprehends, in his rapid glance, the vast variety of in- 
terests committed to his care, let him look down from the 
station where he sits alone, upon a world all prostrate at his 
feet ; and when man has exhausted his stock of paltry adula- 
tion, let nature yield her stores to his command; let the moun- 
tain reveal its treasure, and the sea give up her hidden wealth ; 
let the north send in her portion and the south her tribute ; 
let the birds of the air and the beast of the field minister, with 
their choicest dainties, to his palate ; let the most delicious 
viands sparkle at his board, and the softest melody warble 
through his halls, and the voice of merriment and music be 
heard continually around his apartments ; and that this spoiled 
child of fortune may enjoy more than man has ever yet en- 
joyed, or heart has ever yet conceived, let his capacities 
for self-indulgence be doubled, and his life prolonged to 
centuries — yet will the day of his probation cease. Its 
morning rose in beauty; its noonday dazzled us with its 
brightness ; its night shall close in clouds and darkness. For 
all these things, O man! God shall call thee into judgment; 



266 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



and what art thou profited who hast gained the world but 
lost thy soul ? 

Few men have the hardihood deliberately to cast off all 
hope of future repentance and salvation ; and although there 
may be some in this house who have little regard for the 
Saviour of sinners, yet there is not one but would shudder at 
the thought of renouncing all hopes of an interest in his atone- 
ment. The boldest sinner, if called upon to deed away all title 
to eternal life, would shrink back from the proposition. If the 
world were offered for his soul, he would spurn the offer ; and 
yet the very deed, that he would shudder at when proposed 
in words, he is daily performing, and repeating continually in 
the course of his short and uncertain life. How many are say- 
ing, I will put off religion to a future season ; I pray thee 
have me excused just now ? Now to put off religion is, in fact, 
to reject it ; for all the offers of the Gospel are made at the 
present time. There is not, in the whole Bible, a single promise 
to a future repentance or conversion. "Now is the accepted 
lime, now is the day of salvation." " To-day, if ye will hear 
his voice, harden not your hearts." " Boast not thyself of to- 
morrow," "This night thy soul may be required of thee." 

Since, then, there is no promise, no offer, except to the present, 
he who puts off now, rejects altogether, and all his promises 
and hopes of future repentance and conversion are vain de- 
lusions by which he hopes to deceive others, as the great ad- 
versary has deceived his own soul. Religion is every thing, or 
it is nothing. The salvation of the soul is important above all 
things, or of no importance; and he who delays attention to 
these great concerns, proves by this very act, that he has^no 
adequate conception whatever of their awful and tremendous 
import. For what does he plead, who asks a short delay in 
accepting the offered mercy ? He asks permission to sin against 
God a little longer ; to harden his heart a little more ; to 
strengthen his evil habits still more firmly ; to risk his soul's 
damnation a few days longer ; and by pursuing such a course 
as this, he hopes to be prepared, in a short time, to turn unto 
God, and repent of his sins. Has this man even the first idea 



REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



267 



about his own condition, or the character of God ; about 
heaven or hell ? 

This whole scheme of future repentance is indeed highly in- 
sulting to God, ruinous to the souls of men. It is insulting to 
God, because he offers salvation now, and we propose to ac- 
cept it at a future time; thus saying, that the offers of God 
are to stand waiting at our doors, until it may please our whim 
or caprice to grant them admission. It is dangerous, because 
the insulted Majesty of Heaven will not endure the insult. 
a My spirit shall not always strive with man ;" and when the 
Spirit of God has once withdrawn his divine influences, there 
* is no other power which can regenerate the soul ; the condition 
of the sinner is utterly hopeless, and it were better for him 
that a millstone had been hanged around his neck, and. he had 
been cast into the bottomless sea. The experience of all men 
warns us of its danger. The path to perdition is strewn with 
the bones of those who have calculated on a future repentance ; 
and of all those unhappy beings, who are now suffering the 
righteous displeasure of God, there is perhaps not a single one 
who has not often resolved on a future repentance. No man 
ever yet reached heaven, who did not determine to repent 
now. Now is the best time to repent. Are you young ? Re- 
pent now, before youthful folly has hardened into aged wicked- 
ness ; before the cares and troubles of the world have pre-oc- 
cupied your mind, and evil habits are fastened upon you. Are 
you old ? Repent soon, or you will never repent at all ; age 
is the time for serious reflections ; think on the world that lies 
before you, and is so near at hand. Are you in prosperity ? 
Seek the Lord now: it will prepare you to meet adversity, 
when it comes, and what is harder still, to enjoy the world 
without abusing it. Are you in adversity ? Then seek your 
Father's face, he will not cast you off", " he giveth liberally, 
and upbraideth not." If you have no portion on earth, lay up 
one in heaven. 

But I cannot convert myself you say. This is the very 
strongest reason, why you should not rest for a moment in 
your present condition. If the power lay with yourself, then 



268 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN 



you might exert it at your pleasure, and delay would not be 
so dangerous. But now, all depends upon the will of another. 
His goodness alone spares your life. His spirit alone can con- 
vert your soul. He is now waiting to be gracious. But if 
his patience shall once be exhausted, if he shall swear in his 
wrath, that you shall not enter into his rest ; your doom is 
fixed, your condition is as hopeless as that of those who al- 
ready feel the agonies of the second death. Is your need of 
divine assistance any reason why you should not seek it ? Is 
your need of the Holy Spirit any reason why you should not ask 
his divine influences ? Is your perishing and ruined condition 
a reason why you should fold your arms in calm security, and o 
coolly await the coming ruin? Did the man whose withered 
arm the Saviour healed act thus, when he was commanded 
to stretch out his arm, all powerless and withered by disease, 
did he turn to the Saviour and complain, that he had com- 
manded him to do what be was unable to accomplish ? No, 
he made the effort, and God gave the power. The very com- 
mand to act includes the promise of ability to those who wish 
it. There is scarce a command in the Bible which has not a 
corresj)ondent promise, and a correspondent example. Are 
we commanded to seek the Lord ? God says, I have not said to 
the house of Israel, Seek ye my face in vain ; and David says, 
Thy face, Lord, will I seek. Are we commanded to make our- 
selves new hearts ? the Psalmist prays, " Make me a new heart, 
and renew a right spirit within me." And again the promise 
is, "I will write my law upon their hearts." If, then, the in- 
vitation is freely given, and the offer of divine assistance is 
fullyjnade • if the strength, which the sinner has not in himself, 
may be obtained of God, the excuse which he draws from his 
inability to convert himself is altogether groundless. 

But bad as all these excuses are ; if persevered in, they 
will all be taken. God will force no man into heaven against 
his will. His service is a voluntary service, a spiritual service, 
and he seeketh such to serve him. " As for those men who 
were bidden, none of them shall taste of my supper." The 
prayers of sinners are often answered sooner than they ex- 



REJECT THE GOSPEL. 



269 



pected. The profane swearer, who calls down curses on his 
head, often finds that his prayer is terribly answered. He 
prays in jest, but God never jests ; he answers him in earnest. 
Thus the man, who is continually praying in his heart to be 
excused, from the service and favor of God, often meets a quick 
and terrible reply. God says in his wrath, he is joined to his 
idols, let him be excused, excused now, excused forever. We 
see then, 

III. How dangerous it is to trifle with the offers of the 
Gospel. If God has spoken to man, he surely must require 
that man should give, at least, an attentive and respectful 
hearing. The voice which speaks from heaven, is the voice of 
wisdom, the voice of authority, the voice of affection. That 
wisdom must not be despised; that authority must not be 
disregarded; that affection must not be slighted. The mes- 
senger who comes from heaven, comes loaded with a message 
of stupendous importance. He reveals a wonderful plan of 
redemption for a guilty world. So vast and important, in the 
view of infinite wisdom, was the scheme devised for man's 
salvation, that when it was to be revealed, the Son of God 
himself came down, attended by hosts of rejoicing angels, who 
announced his first arrival ; and when this scheme was to be 
carried into its complete and final execution, this glorious 
Redeemer shed his blood upon the cross, the earth shook and 
trembled, the sun wrapped himself in sackcloth, and angels 
again announced his joyful resurrection. 

Now, for man to turn away, in cold indifference, from this 
great scheme of reconciliation devised for his peculiar benefit 
— a plan which angels desire to look into, and the Son of God 
died to accomplish — for man thus to treat, with cool contempt, 
the most solemn doings of the Almighty, cannot but excite the 
divine displeasure. Hence throughout the Bible it is repre- 
sented as the last and greatest of all sins, as that w r hich does 
arouse the indignation of Jehovah, till it burnetii to the deepest 
hell. Even Sodom and Gomorrah, those cities of the plain, 
whose pollutions cried to heaven for vengence, and brought 
down a fiery deluge to overwhelm them, should rise in judg- 



270 



GROUNDS ON WHICH MEN, ETC. 



ment against the cities which despised the Saviour's invitations ; 
and how, says the apostle, how shall we escape if we neglect 
so great salvation ! 

And here in the parable before us, we are told, that the 
Master was angry — he who had provided the feast — who had 
sent out his invitations — who had said, all things are ready — 
he was angry, and said, " None of these men who were bidden 
shall taste of my supper." So when the approach of the 
judgment is described in the Apocalypse, those who are cry- 
ing to the rocks and hills to fall upon them and cover them, 
wish to be concealed from the wrath of the Lamb ; for the 
great day of his wrath is come and who shall be able to stand ! 
Mark the expression, the wrath of the Lamb — not the wrath 
of the lion, or the tiger, or some fierce beast of pray, whose 
delight is in blood and suffering, but the wrath of the 
Lamb — the meek, quiet, gentle, long-suffering Lamb — the 
Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of the world. The 
sinner's best friend is become his enemy, his last hope is sunk 
in despair. The love which long bore with him, is now turned 
into anger ; and mercy, long despised, has seized the sword of 
justice. The mountain of privileges, on which the sinner 
stood, is now a mountain of guilt pressing him lower and lower 
into perdition. Oh, there is no hatred like that which springs 
from slighted love ; there is no wrath like the wrath of 
the Lamb ! And let us all remember that the day is coming 
when these excuses will be of no avail. They shall all, 
one day, be examined by the clear light of eternity, and un- 
dergo the searching scrutiny of the omniscient Judge. De- 
ceive others as we may, impose on ourselves as we can, yet 
we cannot impose on God. In that great day of coming 
retribution, when the assembled families of earth shall stand 
before his bar, no such excuse will then be offered ; but deep 
and solemn silence will overspread that wide assembly, and the 
sinner, self-condemned, shall only hear in the decision of the 
Judge, the confirmation of the verdict his own conscience had 
passed already. 



XIII. 



THE DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 
ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 



Luke, xix. 13. — " Occupy till I come" (See Matt. xxv. 14:} Luke, viii., 18 5 
Mark, iv. 25). 



The parable, of which our text forms a part, is parallel with 
that contained in the 25th chapter of Matthew, commencing at 
the 14th verse, usually called the parable of the talents. Both 
are designed to illustrate the same great truths by a language 
and an imagery strikingly analogous. In each the privileges we 
enjoy, the advantages and blessings we possess, are represented 
as coming from the hand of God, as gifts of his bounty, or 
rather as loans for a season, to be reclaimed at his pleasure ; 
as loans for which he will require an interest on the day of 
reckoning ; as advantages, which are attended by correspond- 
ing responsibilities, and to whose improvement we are in- 
vited by the kindest encouragements, from whose neglect we 
are warned by the most fearful threatenings. In St. Matthew, 
the servants are represented as trading with their talents, and 
here, it is said : " Occupy till I come." The term in the origi- 
nal means to be occupied, to be diligently, industriously, labo- 
riously engaged. So that the requirement of our text is 
diligently and conscientiously to improve the talent, or the 
pound, committed to us. 

We endeavored on a former occasion, from this text, to 
warn you against that secret atheism, which insinuates itself 
the more dangerously, because unobserved, into the whole cur- 
rent of our habitual feelings, and usurps the place and the 
attribute of the Creator by claiming an absolute proprietorship 



2 72 DUTY. EXCOUEA.GEMENT, AMD RESPONSIBILITY 



in his works. We endeavored to remind you of that truth, 
universally acknowledged, yet too generally neglected, that 
God. is the Lord and Proprietor of all; that we are the work- 
manship of his hands, created by his power, and upheld by his 
goodness; that the fulness of the earth is his ; his the large 
possessions of the rich, and the scanty pittance of the poor ; and 
that, in the wide extent of his magnificent creation, there is 
nothing found too large for the limits of his ownership, too in- 
significant for the obligation of his claims. We directed your 
minds to the consideration of the solemn truth, that all, which 
we fondly call our own, is but a loan from the treasury of the 
Lord, to be reclaimed in its season ; a loan, on which an inter- 
est will be demanded, a talent of which an improvement will 
be required, and pointed to that fearful day of reckoning, when 
the Judge himself shall be seen in the air, when the living 
shall be changed, and the dead raised; when the judgment 
shall be set and the books opened, and the whole assembled 
universe shall hear the last unchangeable decision. In view of 
all these solemn considerations it was impossible that our 
minds should not occasionally glance at other important conse- 
quences necessarily resulting from them — at the duties, the 
encouragements, and the responsibilities connected with the 
possession of these talents. 

What was then the object of a transient glance, or casual 
remark, will now demand our deliberate attention, — and we 
propose to consider, — 

1st. The duty of improving our talents. 

2d. The encouragements to their improvement. 

3d. The responsibilities connected with the possession of 
these talents. 

L The duty of improvement may be shown from the com- 
mand of God and from our own best interests. The command 
of God carries with it a universal obligation founded on an 
undoubted right — a right of property, full, complete, original, 
clear in itself, supported by the best of titles, the original 
creation and continued preservation of all things. His com- 
mands are powerful and cannot be safely resisted ; they are 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 



273 



wise and good, and calculated to promote the highest welfare 
and permanent interests of all. These commands are much 
broader than is usually imagined. They embrace man's whole 
nature, intellectual and physical, no less than moral ; as St. 
Paul expresses it, "his whole spirit and soul and body." They 
extend to the minutest circumstances of his life, to all his do- 
mestic and social relations, to his intercourse with men, as well 
as his duty to God; to the cultivation of the intellect and the 
preservation of health and the exercise of influence, as well as 
to purity of heart and humility of spirit. AYe are commanded 
to be diligent in business, as well as fervent in spirit, to labor 
in our vocation by day as well as to meditate on God's truths 
by night, diligently to improve each talent, to leave no mo- 
ment unemployed, no opportunity unimproved, no faculty dor- 
mant, no energy relaxed. 

There is utterly a delusion here, a delusion extensively prev- 
alent, and fatal to the interests of the Gospel upon earth, 
which casts down the standards of Israel's host, to be trampled 
under foot of the Philistines, and causes the enemies of God 
to laugh in stern and bitter derision. It is that the commands 
of God extend only to the heart and life, and that if the heart 
be free from guile, and life unspotted in the world, the intellect 
may lie uncultivated, its mighty powers undeveloped, and the 
whole field of human knowledge left open to the enemies of 
God, to master its richest treasures, to wield its mighty wea- 
pons, to distort its facts, to pervert its reasoning, to direct its 
most powerful instrument — the press, to mould the public 
mind, and stamp their own impress on this young and rising- 
nation. But be not deceived, my brethren, we have to fight 
with principalities, and powers, and spiritual wickedness in 
high places, and if there be one demand more pressing than 
another, if in this age of action, and tumult, and excitement, 
and bold inquiry, if in this land of unfettered freedom and 
overflowing prosperity, there be one necessity more urgent 
than all others, it is the demand for holy talent, it is the neces- 
sity for consecrated learning, it is that men should rise upon 
our soil, strong in native intellect, rich in acquired learning, 
12* 



274 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



filled with the Spirit of the Lord, to walk boldly forth over the 
whole field of human science, gathering its scattered riches, 
digging deep for its precious ore, and from the Babel of dis- 
cordant opinions, drawing fresh materials to build up in new 
glory the temple of the Lord. 

I mean not that meagre and conceited talent which wastes 
its feeble energies in placid self-contemplation; that superficial 
learning which, puffed with the lightness of its own materials, 
longs ever after self-exhibition, and grasps for popular ap- 
plause j but that real genius, always unobtrusive, which aim- 
ing at higher and distant objects, spurns away from it the 
pettiness of an early and temporary fame, which digs deep, 
that its foundation may be sure, and in silence and obscurity 
burnishes that armor which shall one day glitter in the noon- 
day sun, in the face of nations, and turn the tide of battle. And 
well do I believe there is an exalted and expansive spirit in the 
Gospel, which can enlarge and elevate the mind as well as 
purify the heart, and under whose pervading influence there 
shall yet spring up another race of men— giants in tbeir days, 
clothed in the whole panoply of knowledge, radiant in the 
light of truth, wmose reason, blinded by no passion, polluted 
by no vice, calm, transparent, pure, shall be the mirror of eter- 
nal truth, reflecting gloriously its heavenly lineaments, as the 
deep, majestic ocean tranquilly gives back the faithful image of 
the blue sky above it. 

I have not forgotten the mighty efficacy of Christian intelli- 
gence directed by Christian principle, and urged on by Christian 
feeling, when employed in any department of inquiry or of 
effort. I have not forgotten that every enterprise for the benefit 
of the race has for centuries past been commenced and carried 
on and completed by Christians ; that when the world was to be 
freed from the bondage of ecclesiastical tyranny, and the rights 
of conscience, and private judgment to be vindicated and res- 
cued, it was the manly intellect and holy courage of a Christian 
wmich achieved the work ; that when philosophy was to be re- 
formed, and the very sources of all its errors detected and ex- 
posed, it was done by a Christian ; and when the mind thus 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 



275 



taught to reason was itself to be examined, its structure inves- 
tigated, its operations revealed, this work was accomplished 
by a Christian ; and when the material universe in all its vast - 
ness, and with all its wonders was to be revealed to man, it 
was a Christian who first comprehended the structure of the 
universe, who first analyzed light and calculated its motions, who 
first weighed the stars and taught us their distances, their mag- 
nitudes, their densities. And w T hen this new nation was to as- 
sume its place among the people of the earth, it was a Christian, 
whose cool courage, and calm prudence, and deep foresight, and 
sterling integrity, and devout trust in God, guided us through 
unparalleled dangers, commanded universal confidence, and led 
us safely through to unexampled prosperity and glory. The 
world has seen but one Luther, but one Bacon, but one N*ew- 
ton, and but one Washington. Here then may we read in 
living characters what man can accomplish when urged on by 
the motives and sustained by the enemies of Christian princi- 
ples. 

As a small community we have long enjoyed the fertility of 
our soil, the healthiness of our situation, the peacefulness of our 
society, the faithful and constant preaching of God's word, and 
the repeated outpourings of his Spirit. What a long recital 
would it require merely to enumerate our blessings ; how 
many might with joy exclaim — Here was I born again into a 
new life of peace and love ; how many might gaze around with 
swelling hearts, and streaming eyes, to behold the children of 
their love here brought into the family of Christ ! Oh, how 
delightful is the recollection of those days, when the Lord was 
indeed amongst us, when sinners were saying, " Come, let us 
go up to the house of the Lord," and the loud song of praise 
swelled rapturously high from hearts overflowing with grati- 
tude and love S All this we feel, and yet are we prone to put 
away from us the conviction that w r e have individually a talent 
for which we are personally responsible. We are so consti- 
tuted, that only what is remarkable attracts our attention. 
Hence an extraordinary providence excites our gratitude ; an 
extraordinary delivery from imminent danger, an unexpected 



276 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT. AND RESPONSIBILITY 



recovery from wasting disease, escape from some disa>ter 
which has overwhelmed many of our neighbors, directs our 
eyes to a hand unseen above us, which is stretched out for our 
defence, while the ten thousand daily blessings which flow in 
a perpetual stream from the same beneficent hand are un- 
heeded, or perhaps denied. 

For the same reason we are all ready to acknowledge that 
the man of vast erudition, or brilliant genius, or extensive in- 
fluence, or mighty power, has indeed a great talent committed 
to his hands ; and to enlarge most fluently on the correspond- 
ing duty of a diligent and conscientious improvement, while 
we overlook altogether the talents possessed by the great mass 
of mankind, and especially those intrusted to ourselves. How 
ready are we to exclaim : " Oh, what good I would do with 
all that wealth, or genius, or influence, or learning, or power ! 
I would suppress crime ; I would instruct the poor and igno- 
rant, comfort the sick and afflicted, relieve the needy, warn the 
careless, rebuke the bold blasphemer, employ the whole weight 
of my authority, wealth, character, all my talents for the best 
purposes, and having much in my power, my efforts should be 
proportionally great ; but now I have no talent, or if any, it is 
very small, too small to accomplish much good, or demand 
much cultivation. I may live without concern, however dread- 
ful the responsibilities of others. I am excused, however strict 
their accountability." Now I am not disposed to deny that 
there is a difference in the talents committed to men. Yet this 
difference is not so great as many have indolently and sinfully 
desired to believe. The difference is usually of our own mak- 
ing, lies more in the improvement, than in the original gift. 
Those ten talents were, perhaps, originally one, and industry 
and care have multiplied it. Again, if you have little, this, far 
from being any argument for indolence or despondency, shows 
the greater necessity for active and energetic exertion. Your 
one pound may by diligence be increased to ten, by idleness 
may be reduced to nothing. But all have talents, far more 
numerous than they suppose. Consider for a moment how . 
many you possess, and how shamefully they are neglec-ted. 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 277 



With respect to mental endowments, none who have been at 
all observant, c:m for a moment doubt that the difference is 
usually less in the original structure of the mind than in the 
subsequent cultivation ; just as the health and vigor of the body, 
the full development and active play of all its organs, usually 
depend upon fresh air and wholesome food and exercise. 
You are perhaps inferior now to him who was once at best 
your equal, or on whom you once looked down with the proud 
feeling of conscious superiority. How do you now T excuse 
your present inferiority. He stands perhaps at the head of his 
profession, while you linger far in the rear ; his mind is stored 
with all valuable and useful knowledge, while yours is a simple 
vacuum, or filled with that idle and frivolous reading which 
only causeth to err. In all the elements of intelligent respecta- 
bility you are surpassed by your old inferior. You are aston- 
ished, you are fretted; now you swell with vanity, and now are 
corroded with envy ; now yon laugh, and now you murmur, but 
your feeble voice is lost in the loudness of those acclamations 
which proclaim him your superior. You wonder, you repine, 
but never reflect on the real cause, never revert to your own 
culpable neglect. Your hours of pleasure were for him hours 
of study; the lamp which burned till midnight in his apart- 
ment, illumined no scene of revelry or idle mirth, but fell upon 
the page of wisdom. If his health be enfeebled, it is not 
through sensual indulgence ; if his brow be furrowed, it is with 
anxious thought and not with violent passions. 

Oh, ye young men, who now exult in the possession of fan- 
cied talents which you think it unnecessary to improve, how 
keen will be those pangs of wounded pride, those stings of ill- 
concealed envy, which will fasten in your bosoms when you 
find in future life that while you slept, others labored ; while 
yon lingered on the way, others were advancing on the course, 
and have plucked the crown which you thought your own. 
And remember that you are accountable, both in the eyes of 
God and man, not only for what you are, but for what you 
might have been ; not merely for the one pound given to you, 
but for the five or ten which you ought to have gained. Say 



278 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



not then : If I possessed the acquirements or the genius of 
such an individual I would devote them to high and noble pur- 
poses. Those acquirements are due to industry, not genius. 
That genius itself, is only common intelligence happily de- 
veloped. Sir Isaac Newton was thought a dunce at school, 
and after his wonderful discoveries in after life gave this as the 
secret of his amazing genius, that he had " the capacity of 
patient thought" Oh, it is fearful to look over the institutions 
in our land for the education of youth, and observe how many 
talents are buried, shamefully buried, lost to the possessor, 
lost to the world, lost now and forever ! 

It is the melancholy result of almost universal observation, 
that the fairest promise is often earliest blighted, the brightest 
genius most suddenly eclipsed. With respect to wealth, have 
you not more than to satisfy your reasonable wants ? Is there 
nothing that you can spare for the cause of God and man ? 
Because you cannot give so abundantly as the rich, will you 
feel yourself excused from the duty of giving at all ? Have 
you thus learned the nature of real benevolence; have thus 
read the story of the widow's mite ? How small a sum may 
aid in circulating the Word of God through distant lands, 
where his salvation is not known. How slight a pittance may 
relieve the distresses of the needy, if attended with the mild 
countenance and gentle tone of Christian love. And how vast 
is the amount which may be accumulated from the small con- 
tributions of those who have little to bestow. You have often 
heard it remarked that the mighty stream of British benevo- 
lence is principally supplied by the little rills which flow in 
from the cottages of the poor. If, however, you have nothing 
to bestow on others, is it not because you lavish your income 
in indulgence, or waste it by carelessness ? Might not greater 
industry, or greater economy, increase your store, and a little 
self-denial purchase the dignified enjoyment of daily good ? 
But oh, my friends, when I cast my eyes over this congregation ; 
when I look abroad upon this rich and fertile land ; when I 
remember how God has within a few years doubled almost 
without your agency the value of your estates, and then ask 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION" OF TALENTS. 279 



what is the improvement of these blessings ? where are the 
thank-offerings made unto the Lord ? where is the recognition 
of his goodness ? has your gratitude increased with the multipli- 
cation of his favors ? Have you more anxiously and prayer- 
fully improved the privileges he is bestowing, or have the 
blessings which have descended from heaven only pressed you 
by their very magnitude more closely to the earth ? Are you 
making gold and fine gold your trust, your confidence, and cast 
God from your thoughts because he has never ceased to think 
in tenderness and kindness of you ? 

When questions such as these are presented to your 
thoughts, do they come as unwelcome visitors, unwillingly en- 
tertained and speedily dismissed ? Again, have you no influ- 
ence to exert beneficially? Is there no circle where it may be 
happily employed? I mean not that meddling, dictatorial prag- 
matical influence, which irritates and disgusts, while it aims to 
guide, and makes man hate a good cause, for the faults of an 
injudicious advocate, — but the mighty influence of a meek and 
quiet spirit. Great is the power of one pious example ; mighty 
the efficacy of the life truly devoted to the Lord ! It matters 
not how ignorant, hoAV young, how low — -a child, a servant, 
may exert an influence which shall be felt to the end of the 
world, and throughout eternity. It is the influence of truth 
shining through his conduct and character. If the vessel be 
earthy, so much the more glorious the divine treasure which 
it contains. Ah, how many opportunities for exerting a holy 
and happy influence have we already lost ! How many here have 
employed all their capacity and all their influence to diffuse 
around them an atmosphere of corruption ? How many young- 
men pollute all within their reach by their own impure conver- 
sation and wicked example, and stand amidst their fellows, 
not to diffuse a holy and happy influence around, but to blast 
and to wither all that is beautiful and lovely in youthful char- 
acter, themselves meanwhile more blasted and withered than 
the worst, as the scorpion often dies by the venom which he 
has nourished for others ! 

Thus might I proceed to enumerate the various objects which 



280 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



you prize most highly, and show that, whether enjoyed in a 
greater or less degree, they are all talents. Tour time, your 
health, your energies of body and mind, your moral and social 
powers, your very life, your all, your opportunities of improve- 
ment, your means of happiness, all these are talents, committed 
to your hands for valuable purposes, and for whose improve- 
ment you are strictly responsible. 

This leads us to remark again on the luty of improvement, 
that all these talents are not our own ; they come from God, 
not as gifts, but as loans, to be reclaimed at his pleasure. All 
sin is practical atheism, all neglect or misimprovement of our 
talents is founded on the vain assumption that all we have is 
our own. Hence, usually the greater the gift the more neg- 
lected is the giver ; the stronger and more numerous the 
bonds which should attach us to our Creator, the more rest- 
lessly do we endure their pressure, the more violently are they 
burst asunder. The very means designed to soften our hearts 
only make them harder, and the goodness and long-suffering of 
God emboldens us in sin. One looks on his farm, richly laden 
with the products of a fertile soil and genial climate, and says : 
" Behold, this is mine," forgetting that it is God alone who 
sends the rain and sunshine on his growing corn, and that one 
breath of the Lord would sweep from his large domain every 
living thing in which is the breath of life. Another looks with 
self-complacent vanity on his large acquirements, his learning, 
his talents, his fame, and cries aloud as the infatuated monarch 
of old : "Behold this great Babylon which I have built," for- 
getting who it is that causeth him to differ, that keeps up the 
full play of those active powers, and whose single word could 
dismiss him from the high rank which he occupies in the intel- 
ligent and rational creation, beneath the level of the brutes 
that graze unthinking, yet happy, by his side. 

Now all this is downright atheism, the most daring and pre- 
sumptuous atheism. It is shutting out God altogether from 
his dominions. It is casting him down from the throne of his 
rightful supremacy. The spirit which it breathes in whatever 
shape it may appear, how r ever gracefully decked, or iugeniously 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OP TALENTS. 281 

veiled, is still the spirit of atheism. Oh, my friends, have we 
forgotten that all things are his ; that every good and perfect 
gift cometh down from the father of lights; that of him and 
through him, and to him are nil things, who is over all blessed 
forever? Do we not see him in the dispensations of his provi- 
dence ? do we not hear him in the voice of his works ? Can we 
breathe the pure air of heaven ; can we gaze with heartfelt bliss 
around o-ur domestic circle ; can we exult in the possession of 
our rational and intelligent existence ; can we dwell amidst the 
manifestation of his goodness and his glory, and heedless of 
all we see around and feel within us, say with the fool in our 
hearts : There is no God? 

But if there be a God, then we are his ; then all is his, all 
things human are stamped with holiness, and consecrated to 
high and holy purposes. In one sense they are ours, not as 
gifts, but as loans ; loans on which an interest is required, of 
which an improvement is to be made. And why, I ask you, 
oh, why are these talents intrusted to you ? that station, that 
genius, that wealth, that influence, that time, those opportuni- 
ties for intellectual and moral cultivation ; that they may be 
wasted, perverted, applied to the worst purposes, or not em- 
ployed at all? Why is life prolonged, that it may be wasted 
in indolence, or polluted by evil passions, or brutal lusts? 
Why is health preserved, that all its vigor may be conse- 
crated to the service of the world and Satan ? W T hy are the 
offers of mercy made, and the means of grace continued, that 
you may aggravate your final condemnation; that you may 
heap up wrath against the day of wrath ; that you may fill up 
to fulness your cup of bitterness, and then drink it to the 
dregs? W r hy do you possess those rational and immortal 
powers, capable of knowing and serving and rejoicing in God ? 
Is it that they maybe dragged down from the loftiness of their 
upward flight and fastened to the dust on which we tread ? 
Is it that he, who might eat of angels' food, may grovel with 
the swine and feed upon their husks? Believe you, that this 
is the design of your Creator, that those high endowments and 
glorious privileges are given in mockery of man? If they 



282 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



were given in perpetuity, it were madness thus to prostitute 
them. But they were only loaned for a season. You are not 
proprietor, as you may dream, bnt tenant at the will of an- 
other. They may be reclaimed at his pleasure, you know not 
how soon, but they will certainly be reclaimed. That health, 
which you now abuse to criminal indulgence, and utter for- 
getfulness of God, may soon be undermined ; that wealth 
which you hoard with greedy avarice, and to which as unto a 
God, you pay your daily adoration, to which you sacrifice 
your conscience and sell your soul, that wealth may soon take 
wings and fly away. That reason, so much vaunted and so 
grievously abused, so long employed to apologize for sin, and 
to cavil against truth, may soon tremble on her throne, totter 
and fall. All your privileges, all your endowments may be 
swept away, and you may yet stand, even in this world, t he 
melancholy monument of God's righteous judgments, bereft 
of all you have vaunted most, and most abused, the wreck of 
what you were, like the once proud oak, now leafless, branch- 
less, lifeless, which the fire of heaven hath scathed amidst all 
its pride and beauty. 

But if this come not soon, it must come at last. The end of 
our stewardship is fixed by the words of our text, " Occupy, 
till I come." Till I come in the judgments of my providence 
to strip you of all you now possess ; till I come in the hour of 
death to burst the bonds that unite you to the earth ; till I 
come in the great day of final retribution, to take vengeance 
on my enemies. And will he come, the despised, persecuted, 
crucified Redeemer, will he come ? Yes, he will come, and 
every eye shall see him, and every ear shall hear him, and 
every knee shall bow before him, and every heart shall quail 
in his presence, and they that pierced him shall look upon him, 
and all the tribes of the earth shall wail because of him ! Will 
he come ? And oh, how will he come ? He appeared once as 
the Babe of Bethlehem, was wrapped in swaddling clothes, 
and laid in a manger ; no regal pomp attended his arrival ; no 
loud acclaim of rejoicing thousands announced his near ap- 
proach ; but a single band of angels was heard at midnight by 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 



283 



the solitary shepherds, and the notes of that music, which 
swelled softly over the distant hills of Judea, proclaimed peace 
on earth and good will to men. 

But far different is his coming now. He comes not as a 
babe, but as a monarch ; not as a king of wealth, but as Lord 
of the universe. A multitude, such as no man can number 
is around him, ten thousand times ten thousand attend him as 
he moves, and thousands of thousands proclaim his approach, 
and their voice is like the noise of many waters, and like the 
sound of mighty thunderings, as they cry aloud : " Lift up 
your heads, oh, ye gates, and be ye lifted up ye everlasting- 
doors, and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this 
King of Glory? the Lord of hosts, the Lord mighty in battle, 
he is the King of Glory." He sits on the clouds of the sky; 
he is borne on the wings of the wind ; darkness is round about 
him, and thick darkness is his pavilion. Is this the man of 
sorrows? Is this the babe of Bethlehem? Behold, he travels 
in the greatness of his strength, he has trodden alone the 
wine-press of his wrath, his red right hand hath gotten him 
the victory. He is come in flaming fire to take vengeance on 
his enemies, clothed in the robes of justice, and armed with the 
thunders of Omnipotence. Hark ! did you hear that sound, 
which swells through heaven, and reaches over the earth, and 
trembles through the dark caverns of the pit ? Are these the 
tones of that soft music, which once was heard amid the moun- 
tains of Judea ? No, it is the voice of the archangel, it is 
the trump of God, it is the summons to the judgment bar! 
He comes, but oh, how different is his advent from his de- 
parture ? When he hung on the cross, the sun did for a sea- 
son hide his head in shame, when he cried, " It is finished," and 
bowed his mighty head and gave up the ghost ; a little 
while the conscious earth might shake at the foul deed by her 
fierce children done, and when he rose on high he bore one 
mortal back, the thief upon the cross, to be in paradise with 
him. But now at his approach, the sun is blotted out, the 
heavens are rent asunder, the elements melt with fervent heat ; 
the earth, convulsed through all her kingdoms, dashes forth 



284 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



the affrighted dead of a thousand generations ; the sea gives 
up her dead, and Death and Hell give up their dead. Behold 
they come from the north and the south, from the east and 
west, from every nation under heaven ; from the populous 
city and the retired village ; from the cultivated fields and 
the desert plain ; from the monuments of the rich, and the 
graves of the poor. They come from the caves of the wilder- 
ness, from the darkest and most sequestered corners of the 
earth. They awake from the sleep of ages, they rise, they 
spring from the ruins of old Babylon and Nineveh, from the 
churches and cemeteries of modern days. They rise together, 
the father and the child, the husband and the wife, the pastor 
and the people, the murderer and the murdered, the seducer 
and his victim. Oh, what an assembly will be there ! God 
will be there on the throne of his Judgment ; the holy angels 
will be there awaiting his commands ; the fiends of hell will 
burst forth from their dark caverns to be there ; the spirits of 
just men made perfect will be there ; the damned who have 
sunk from this Gospel land into darkness and eternal night, 
will all be there. And the conquerors of the earth will be 
there ; and the hypocrites will be there ; and the bold blas- 
phemers, atheists, will all be there. Pilate, Herod, Judas, will 
be there ; you and I will be there ! 

Shall we not arm ourselves, then, for the warfare in which 
we are engaged, and summon up every power for the mighty 
enterprise in which we are embarked ? The world has reached 
a new era ; the breath of a new spirit has been breathed upon 
it ; a new impulse has been given to its movements ; a new 
life is flowing through all its members, and all the elements 
of moral and intellectual being are tossing to and fro in cease 
less agitation like the waters of the mighty deep. The men 
of this world have caught the spirit of their age, their minds 
are wound up to the emergencies of the times ; behold how 
they prepare for its conflicts, how they struggle for its prizes ; 
what zeal, what self-denial, what boundless energy ! They 
contend for an earthly crown, we for a heavenly. And can it 
be that we, with the high and commanding motives drawn 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 285 



from eternity bearing down upon us, shall be less energetic 
and vigorous than they ? Less active by day, less laborious 
by night ; less ardent in our aspirations, less patient in our 
self-denial? Shall we not enter along with them on every 
field of lofty thought and deep investigation, urging on our 
inquiries and pushing forward our victories ; erecting no monu- 
ment to our own glory, but humbly bringing all, gold, frank- 
incense, and myrrh, whatever is costliest and most pleasant, 
to the feet of Jesus. Thus to aspire after the very highest 
attainments ; thus to agonize after the complete perfection of 
your intellectual and moral nature — this is the spirit of the 
Gospel. Is it ambitious ? Then who cares for words ? I 
tell you to be ambitious, to covet earnestly the best gifts. 
This is ever to forget what is behind, and press on toward 
the mark ; this is to be straitened till your work is accom- 
plished — to endure the restlessness of a felt discomfort, while 
aught remains to be accomplished. 

But remember, it is sacred talents, it is consecrated learning, 
of which I speak. Beware, lest in the ardor of your pursuit 
you forget the only proper objectj lest you substitute the means 
for the end, and accumulate knowledge not to be devoted to 
the Lord, but for your own personal aggrandizement. And 
even those who have neither the opportunity nor the capacity 
for larger intellectual attainments, are not excluded the spirit 
of these remarks, for to the extent of their possible improve- 
ment they are strictly applicable to tli3m ; nor is any thing 
better calculated to preserve the purity, and extend the influ- 
ence of the Gospel, than the general intelligence diffused 
through a Christian community. But this improvement of our 
talents is demanded as a duty, not only by the command of 
God, but by our own interests. Without this diligent improve- 
ment, all the high endowments, and precious privileges be- 
stowed upon us, will be given in vain. All the advantages of 
nature, and all the blessings of God, will be entirely wasted. 
In vain is the book of nature spread out before our eyes, in 
vain is the volume of revelation placed in our hands, if we turn 
away in heedless indifference from both. In vain are all the 



286 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



anxieties of parents, in vain all the solicitude of friends, in vain 
all the efforts of instructors and pastors. Thousands are 
known to burst through all these barriers in their way, and 
rush headlong down the precipice of ruin, destroying in their 
course all present prospects and all future hopes, making ship- 
wreck alike of character and faith, and alienating all human 
affection, as well as grieving away God's holy Spirit. By all 
that is solemn then, in God's authoritative command, by all 
that is dear in our own eternal interests, is enforced upon us 
the duty of improving the talents we possess. Consider next, 
II. The encouragements to this improvement. What are 
they ? The very strongest encouragement lies in the posses- 
sion of these talents. It is a clear indication of God's design. 
There is in all his works nothing superfluous, nothing unadapt- 
ed to the circumstances in which it is placed, or the uses to 
which it is to be applied. The dove has not the beak or tal- 
ons of a vulture, nor the ox the tusks and claws of the lion. 
Man has not the fins and gills of the fish; nor the fish the 
limbs and lungs of a man. Each is adapted to the ele- 
ment in which he is to live, and the organs for seizing on his 
prey, for masticating and digesting his food, are exactly suited 
for the mode of life he is designed to pursue. And it is with 
the mind as with the body. The very structure of the moral 
and intellectual powers, indicates their design and use. The 
very circumstances in which man is placed, point out the pur- 
poses to which these powers are to be applied. Now this de- 
sign cannot fail, except through our fault, through a wilful or 
negligent perversion of these powers. In vain would an ox 
attempt to fly, or any irrational creature attempt to speak or 
reason, because it is contrary to his whole organization, to the 
very design of his Creator, the end and object of his being. 
But man is formed for this very purpose, to know and love 
and serve God. He is capable of advancing in intellectual 
and moral cultivation, in holiness and conformity to God's 
image, and his whole organization, as well as the circumstances 
in which he is placed, and the opportunities he enjoys, pro- 
claim this to be the end and object of his existence. As surely 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 287 



then, as God exists, so surely can this end be attained. Never 
fear then to aim at large advancements in holiness and wisdom 
' and knowledge. Shall the huge leviathan fear to plough his 
own watery element, or the eagle to fly up toward the sun ? 
Then may man fear the boldness of that voice which calls him 
upward to his native element, points out to him his exalted 
destiny, and exhorts him to fulfill it to the utmost. Let your 
aim be high, and your attainments shall be great, and your 
influence shall be wide. 

Another encouragement may be found in the promise of 
God, confirmed as it is by our own experience and the univer- 
sal analogy of his moral government on earth. The very com- 
mand of God implies a corresponding promise. He is not an 
austere man, a hard master, a Pharaoh requiring bricks to be 
made, and supplying no straw for the work. He says expressly, 
u I have not said to the house of Israel, Seek ye my face in 
vain." He promises aid to human infirmity, and " as a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." 
His promises are numerous, and unlimited : " Seek, and ye 
shall find," " Knock, and it shall be opened ;" and here the 
command is : " Give to him that has ten talents, for to him 
that hath shall m ore be given." This is a universal rule in the 
natural and moral world. All things tend to multiply them- 
selves. All moral qualities, good or bad ; all intellectual hab- 
its, wealth, learning, influence, all tend to their own increase. 
Nothing is stationary ; there is no perfect quiescence, but per- 
petual change. Growth and decay are the universal law. So 
in the world of grace, there is nothing stationary here. The 
Christian gets more grace ; the sinner loses what he has, and 
heaps up wrath against the day of wrath. God gives as 
man is willing to receive. Open your mouth wide and it shall 
assuredly be filled. There is a mysterious union between 
divine and human agency. It is a gift, a free gift, an unmer- 
ited gift, and yet is its extent measured by the diligence of the 
recipient in improving his blessings. 

HI. What are our responsibilities for the improvement and 
application of our talents ? This view gives a grave and sol- 



288 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



emn import to all of human life and human relations. Man is 
the servant and steward of the Lord, and all that concerns 
him partakes of the dignity of this high revelation. Of a 
steward it is expected that he be faithful. And oh, what 
a fearful spectacle does this world exhibit when thus con- 
sidered. Look abroad, and behold the talents and blessings, 
the enjoyment and privileges, the means of happiness, and op- 
portunities of improvement and usefulness bestowed on man, 
and think how all are wasted, abused, perverted. Oh, what a 
fearful reckoning there must come at last ! Those men of in- 
fluence and popularity, who exert their temporary importance 
to deceive, to injure, to corrupt the community that trusts 
them ; those men of genius and learning, who wield the mighty 
powers intrusted to them for holiest purposes, that they pro- 
mote immorality and sin ; those rich men, who heap up gold 
to gratify their appetites, their vanity, or avarice ; who use the 
good gifts of God to dishonor his name, and close their ears 
and harden their hearts against the cry of the needy, the igno- 
rant and distressed. Oh, how shall they answer when the day 
of reckoning shall come, when all their ingenuity shall find no 
excuse, and all their wealth can purchase no reprieve ; and in- 
stead of the adulations of a senseless crowd, shall burst upon 
their ears the deep execrations of those they have ruined by 
their example, the indignant hiss of an assembled universe. 

But of those who shall tremble before the bar of God on this 
fearful day of reckoning, most awful is the destiny of him, 
who degraded his high endowments to base purposes, and 
used bis extensive influence only to pollute and to destroy. 
We need not wander beyond the limits of our own age and 
nation to find men enough, who, gifted with a popular elo- 
quence the most commanding and persuasive, and social 
qualities the most winning and attractive, have yet employed 
these advantages for the worst purposes ; have pleased only to 
corrupt, and fascinated only to ruin ; have held the torch of 
their genius on high, not to diffuse a pure and heavenly light, 
but to mislead all who followed, to consume all who ap- 
proached. There is an instance but too well known through- 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 



289 



out the world, and to whom, even before I mention his name, 
the thoughts of all will spontaneously turn. I mean that strange 
and wayward genius, who in the memory of us all, drew the 
eyes of all the world upon himself in alternate admiration, pity, 
and terror. He is far beyond human praise or'blame, nor even 
if he lived, could the voice which now addresses you, ever 
reach him from this distant land, or add one pang to the 
agonies of that dark and gloomy spirit. Endowed with all 
the advantages of nature and fortune, by birth a noble, by 
education a scholar, by nature a poet, uniting in his single per- 
son all that mankind are most accustomed to admire; to what 
beneficent purposes might he not have devoted his amazing 
genius ; what a holy light might he not have shed along his 
path ; what a blessed memory might he not have left behind 
him, associated with all that is loveliest in domestic feelings, 
that is kindest in social sympathies, that is purest in moral 
principles. But habituated from earliest childhood to the in- 
dulgence of every passion, a sceptic without examination, a 
sensualist without shame, his creed was the dictate of his heart, 
rather than his head, and his practice was the best refutation 
of his principles. Intoxicated with success, dizzied with the 
elevation he had reached, maddened by the consciousness of 
intellectual power, he poured out from the gall of his own 
agitated spirit, the bitterness of his scornful derision on all 
human hopes and virtues, on all that was fairest, and loveliest, 
among men. After a life which was stained with almost every 
vice, he consecrated the last energies of a body, worn out with 
self-indulgence, and of a mind wrecked by ungovernable pas- 
sions, to erect a monument of moral infamy, lit emblem of its 
author's mind, where the flashes of genius burst irregularly 
forth, more brilliant from surrounding desolation, and all that 
is revolting in brutal lusts is ingeniously veiled and rendered 
seductive by all that is most splendid in poetic imagery and 
diction. His profligacy was as great as his talents, " of which," 
to use the quaint language of an ancient writer, " God ga^ e 
him the use, and the Devil the application." He employed 
the most exalted powers for the worst purposes, wielded the 
13 



290 DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, AND RESPONSIBILITY 



sword of an archangel with the malignity of a fiend, and 
plucked a brand from hell to set the world on fire. Oh, was 
not that a fearful but righteous retribution, when he, who de- 
rided all domestic peace and virtue, was himself driven out 
from all its enjoyment; when he who had in the very wanton- 
ness of scepticism, thrown out upon the world his gloomy 
doubts, found them gathering in a dark and thick cloud around 
his own head ; when that abused understanding was wrecked 
by the passions it had nourished, and that feverish frame worn 
out by the vices it had practised, and he who had been the idol 
of nations, sank to the level of the lowest, became the daily 
companion of those whose very touch is pollution, and very 
name modesty may not mention. 

Thus it is that even in this world the visitations of God's 
mercy are often converted into the visitations of his wrath ; 
that talent after talent is given, neglected, perverted, till for- 
tune, intellect, character, conscience, health are gone; then 
cast the unprofitable servant into outer darkness ; there shall 
be wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

We have seen the wicked, like the green bay-tree, lifting 
its summit toward heaven, extending its branches abroad over 
the earth, but there was rottenness at the heart while all was 
fair without, and now every leaf has withered, every branch 
dropped away, and it remains towering alone in dead and 
gloomy grandeur. The dews of heaven do not revive it, nor 
the moisture of earth nourish it. In vain does the sunshine 
play around its head, or the shower moisten its roots. The 
seasons may come and go, the winter may pass away, and the 
spring may bloom again and all around look beautiful and gay, 
but never shall it revive from that long decay. We have seen 
how the candle of the Lord hath shone upon the tabernacle of 
the ungodly, how he exulted in that light which beamed and 
played so gloriously around him, as if this were light of his 
own creation, as if these were sparks of his own kindling. 
Now this light is extinguished, and " he is cast into outer 
darkness," the darkness Avhich reigns without the limits of that 
region, where the light of life and happiness is never known to 



ARISING FROM THE POSSESSION OF TALENTS. 291 



beam. Oh, what is it that constitutes the light of life ? All 
this is lost — the light of heaven, of earth, of joy, of hope, of 
social happiness ; and the light of reason and of conscience 
only shines to show how just the retribution, how gloomy the 
flames that roll and boil around. Oh, how deep is this dark- 
ness, this outer darkness, this eclipse of all man's brightest 
powers, this fearful wreck of all his mightiest energies ! 

Those energies are not destroyed, but inverted ; finding no 
food without, they turn inward on themselves, the gnawing of 
a worm that never dies, the everlasting torture of a flame that 
burns forever, and consumes not, yet is not quenched. That 
memory, once the receptacle of all knowledge, where was once 
stored up all that is instructive in history, or profound in 
philosophy, or agreeable in fiction, is now the dark depository 
of gloomy recollections. The ghosts of departed hours, rise 
up in terrible array and shriek out in terrified tones the deeds of 
secret sin. The conscience, once seared over with a hot iron, now 
regains her feeling; once lulled to repose, she now awakes and 
springs up with new terror from her sleep, like a strong man 
armed. Like a giant from his slumbers does she come, and a 
host of long-forgotten sins follows in her train. These are 
the serpents which once seduced, and now are vipers coiling 
in the hair, and lashes of the furies that pursue you. That 
imagination, once rich in images of loveliness and beauty, 
is now filled with all that is dark and terrible. Once it was 
the mirror from which was gloriously reflected all the loveli- 
ness and grandeur of earth and sky, now gloomily shadowing 
out its own dark destiny, and the black scenery around. Those 
faculties, large to embrace and vigorous to grasp, yet blind in 
their might, have crushed all the objects of their wild desire, 
and are turned in maddened energy upon themselves. As if 
the rabid tiger should fasten in his own flesh those weapons 
of destruction designed for his prey. As if the serpent, blind 
with venom, should sink its fangs into its own body, and coil- 
ing with aimless rage, writhe amidst the maddening pressure 
of its own folds, crushing each bone, bursting each sinew, 
rending each nerve, bloated with its own poison, weltering in 



292 



DUTY, ENCOURAGEMENT, RESPONSIBILITY, ETC. 



its awn blood; or rather like the fierce volcano rent with in- 
ternal convulsion, hot with internal fires, feeding from its own 
bosom the flames that consume it. 

Oh, say you, I believe not a hell of outward fire? What 
matters it, that there is no fire without, if all be flame within ? 
The brain is the organ of feeling ; what matters it, if my hand 
or my foot are not in the flame, but the fire is kindled in the 
soul, and all within is boiling, seething with the heat ? Now 
the soul is the seat of that feeling, of which the brain is but 
the organ. What matters it then, if my body be not burned, 
but my soul is all flame, a living fire, unquenchable, blazing 
madly up with its own evergrowing heats ! Behold that 
wretch, the prey of spontaneous combustion, he is not in the 
fire, but the fire is in him, pouring through all his veins, burst- 
ing from all his pores, parching every tendon, torturing every 
nerve, heating every muscle, boiling at the heart, and, like a 
furnace sevenfold heated, glowing at the brain. Ah, I care 
not for the sufferings of the body, if the soul be at ease ; nor 
of the body, if the soul be in torment ! 



XIV. 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



1 Tdi. i. 15. — "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief." 



The old heathen were accustomed to gather around their 
wise and aged men, and listen with deepest reverence and 
profound attention to the shrewd and sagacious sayings that 
fell from their lips. These remarks they treasured up in their 
memories, and recorded for the instruction of future genera- 
tions ; and thus embalmed in the love and admiration of man- 
kind, they passed down from father to son, through successive 
centuries; and they constitute, in reality, all that is called,' the 
wisdom of the early ages. 

Many of these " sayings " we still possess, which have come 
down to us, venerable for their antiquity, stamped with the 
approbation and laden with the accumulated wisdom of suc- 
cessive generations, — sayings of high repute in their day, 
which immortalized their authors, — " golden sayings," as they 
were called, which were blazoned in letters of gold, and en- 
graven on pillars of brass, and hung up on tablets, as conse- 
crated things, in the temple of their gods. But, Oh, brethren ! 
where among them all shall we find a saying to be compared 
with this, — one so full of divine instruction, of heavenly wis- 
dom, of precious consolation, of unutterable love and conde- 
scension as this — " that Christ Jesus came into the world to 
save sinners ?" How dilferent from all we have ever heard 
before, from all we could have expected ! 

Another saying had come down to us from of old, even from 
our first father, when the voice of the Lord Avas heard in the gar- 



2 94 



THE FAITHFUL SATING. 



den of paradise, and when pointing to the tree of knowledge, 
he said, " The. day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die." 
When that fatal sin had been committed, the same awful voice 
was heard again in the garden, dragging the guilty and 
trembling transgressor from his hiding-place of shame, and 
saying, " Cursed is the earth for thy sake, dust thou art, and 
unto dust thou shalt return ;" and then he was driven from 
the garden into an accursed world, with the blight still pursu- 
ing him to the grave, and following onward, a terrible inherit- 
ance of woe to all his posterity. Once hath God spoken, yea, 
twice hath he uttered his voice. Once, amidst the peaceful 
shades and quiet walks of paradise, and then again from the 
blazing top of Mount Sinai. There amidst the fire and smoke 
of that tremendous scene, amidst the glare of vivid lightning, 
and the loud thunder-crash from quaking mountain, and the 
wild convulsion of all the elements was uttered again, under 
new circumstances of overwhelming sublimity and awe, the 
curse original against Adam, " Cursed is every one that con- 
tinueth not in all things, written in this book of the Law, to 
do them !" But how cursed ? Hear the book of the Law. 
" Cursed in city, cursed in field, in thy basket and in thy store ; 
in the fruit of thy body, and in the fruit of thy land ; in thy go- 
ing out, and in thy coming in." " For a fire is kindled in 
mine anger, and shall burn to the lowest hell, and shall con- 
sume the earth with her increase, and shall set on fire the 
foundations of the mountains." 

From that day to this, amongst all nations of the globe, and 
in every age down through the long line of Adam's descend- 
ants, and through every heart of man, has resounded that 
fearful curse, loudly, sadly, mournfully; deepening all our 
sorrows, embittering all our joys, overshadowing with a black 
and heavy cloud the whole of human life, pursuing us down 
to the grave itself with relentless justice, and not even leaving 
us there, but entering along with its victim into the silent 
place of the dead; giving his very flesh and bones to rotten- 
ness and worms ; and raising him again, at the last day, only 
to the resurrection of damnation. Each of the prophets, as he 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING-. 



295 



arose, took up in his day that bitter curse ; and as he looked 
from his watch-tower abroad over the wickedness of all around 
him, and downward upon the sins of coming generations, sent 
it on in notes of judgment, deepening and loudening as they 
rolled, till at last, all gathered into peals of deafening thunder, 
and the Old Testament, which began with the primeval sin 
and the primeval curse, closes with a dreadful threat, that God 
will come again, in his anger, and " smite the whole earth with 
a curse." Truly, " the curse of the Lord dwelleth in the house 
of the wicked." And well might one of old exclaim, "Woe 
unto the wicked, it shall be ill with him ; for the reward of his 
hands shall be given him." 

But blessed be his holy name, if the Old Testament closes 
with a curse, the New Testament opens with a blessing. We 
have stood by the Mount that burned with fire, and was 
wrapped in blackness, and darkness, and tempest ; and have 
heard the sound of the trumpet and the voice of words so 
terrible, that even Moses said, t£ I exceedingly fear, and quake." 
But now, behold, what is it we hear, in the darkness of the 
night, amidst the solitude of the distant mountains and forests 
of Judea, bursting from the broad sky above us, and swelling 
as it rolls along over hills and valleys around ? " The angel of 
the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round 
about them, and they were sore afraid." Is it the summons to 
judgment, the first blast of the trumpet, that shall wake the 
dead ? Poor shepherds, fallen children of a corrupted father, 
how has the guilt of that first transgression come down to all 
his descendants, and along with guilt, first born of sin, terror 
and despair ! " Fear not said the angel, for behold I bring 
you good tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all people, 
for unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, 
which is Christ, the Lord." 

This was the first note of triumph and of rapture that 
ever burst from the vaulted sky upon the ravished ears of men. 
Oh, there is sweet music in heaven ; many a song of ecstasy 
and wonder is lifted high by angelic voices, and poured in 
living melody from lips of fire, or sweetly floats in celestial 



296 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



music from their harps of gold ! But we never hear, except 
on this one occasion, that the joy was too full for heaven to 
hold, that the mighty outburst of those large and heaving 
emotions, that swelled and expanded angelic bosoms, poured 
in its gushing and overflowing abundance upon other worlds. 
But behold, " There was suddenly a multitude of the heavenly 
host ;" the full chorus of the skies praising God and saying, 
" Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth and good will 
toward men." Oh, was not this a saying well worthy of 
every sinner's acceptance ; which was thus announced with 
joy by the heavenly messengers, which prophets had long 
foretold, which the apostles of the Saviour have repeated, 
and our Lord himself, again and again proclaimed, in the 
days of his incarnation, "That Christ Jesus came into the 
world to save sinners?" Perhaps one will say, It is good 
tidings indeed — but is it true? Will he save? Can he 
save ? For answer we refer you to his office, his person, and 
his character. 

I. He was appointed of God for this very purpose, and was 
in every respect adapted to it, being richly endowed with all 
those attributes of Christ, and all those gifts of the Holy 
Ghost, necessary to the accomplishment. 

This was the very purpose for which he came into the world. 
For it is the express and repeated testimony of the Scripture, 
" God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, 
but that the world through him might be saved," and again, 
u God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth on him, should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." But again, " When the fulness of time was 
come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the 
law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might 
receive the adoption of sons." Overwhelmed with this mani- 
festation of God's eternal love, the great apostle of love ex- 
claims, " Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed 
upon us, that we should be called the sons of God !" And 
another apostle cries out, " God commendeth his love toward 
us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us, and 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



297 



now we joy in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom 
we have now received the atonement." 

Such was the high purpose of his mission ; and think you 
he was sent into the world upon an idle errand, without the 
powers and qualifications essential to success? Behold, thus 
saith the Lord God, by the mouth of his prophet Isaiah, xxviii. 
16, "Behold, I lay in Sion," etc. "He was anointed with the 
oil of joy above his fellows." " God gave not the Spirit by 
measure unto him." " All power in heaven and earth are 
committed to his hands, in him dwelt all the fulness of the 
Godhead bodily." In his incarnation upon earth " he was 
the brightness of the Father's glory, and express image of his 
person," that fulness of him, that filleth all in all ; so that 
" when he bringeth in the only begotten into the world, he 
saith, Let all the angels of God worship him. "At his appear- 
ance upon earth, " we behold his glory," says an apostle, " as the 
glory of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and 
truth." Angels heralded his birth ; the star stood in mute 
homage above his cradle, and when he walked abroad upon 
earth, superhuman majesty attended his steps ; the dead heard 
his voice, and lived ; the blind saw ; the lame walked ; the 
awed elements recognized their Lord ; and his astonished dis- 
ciples exclaimed: " What manner of man is this?" But if 
this power be thus fully adequate to all the purposes of his 
high mission, — his condescension, his tender sympathy, his 
meek and gentle love, adapted him still more remarkably to 
be the Saviour of sinners. We needed such a high priest, 
that could be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, who 
could have compassion on the ignorant and erring, who would 
not "break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax;" 
who would lead his flock like a shepherd, gather the lambs 
with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead 
those that are with young. 

Encompassed as we are with sorrows, infirmities, and sins, 

how delightful, how soothing, to hear him cry aloud, " The 

Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord hath 

anointed me to preach good tidings to the meek, to bind up 
13* 



298 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, to 
comfort all that mourn, to give unto them beauty for ashes, 
the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit 
of heaviness." Oh, brethren, what would all his power be to us, 
if it were not for his love ! If he stood before us, clothed in 
the robes of justice, and armed with the terrors of Omnipotence ; 
if the lightnings of indignation blazed from his burning eye, 
and thunderbolts of vengeance quivered in his red right hand ; 
tell me, would not all this boundless power, if wielded by 
inexorable justice, and guided by infinite holiness and wisdom, 
and divorced from a love as boundless as itself, only serve to 
heighten the sinner's terror, and aggravate the sinner's ruin ? 
His power might awe us, his justice alarm, his wisdom over- 
whelm us, his omnipresence bewilder, but it is only his love 
that could win, attract, soften, subdue us, soothe our anxieties, 
quiet our alarm, and banish our apprehensions. 

To the old heathen, and to the modern sceptic, there is no 
God of love in the heavens. Behind the awful forms of na- 
ture, above the starry sky, and wide beyond the outer limits 
of the visible creation, pervading all the universe, and 
strangely blended with it, there is to him an awful, dark, 
mysterious power, who dwelleth aloof, aloft, and alone in the 
depths of silence and immensity, and the dark and fathomless 
unknown ; and who, when he issues from the depths of his 
infinitude, to be known of men, is felt in the earthquake's shock, 
and heard in the tempest's moan, or seen in the quivering con- 
vulsions of nature's agony, or the wild and warring elements. 
Hence to them, a messenger from heaven must be a messenger 
of terror. 

Such a messenger might well have been sent to us, whose 
presence would scathe the earth, and his breath destroy the 
nations. How different he, who came to be the Saviour of 
lost sinners ! He assumed our nature, was born of a woman, 
in the silence of night, in the solitude of the stable, amongst 
the beasts of the stall. Thou wast born of woman, thou 
didst come, O Holiest ! to this world of sin and gloom. And 
the whole history of his life corresponded to the circumstances 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



299 



of his birth, and proclaimed him the friend and Redeemer of 
sinners. " For it became him, for whom are all things, and 
by whom are all things, jn bringing many sons unto glory, to 
make the captain of their salvation perfect through, sufferings." 
Heb. ii. 10. " He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sor- 
rows." — Isaiah, liii. 4. He cried out in his first discourse, 
" Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of 
heaven." Again he cried aloud, " Come unto me all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke 
upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart, 
and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, 
and my burden is light." 

He restored the widow's son, wept with Martha, healed all 
manner of diseases, took little children in his arms and 
blessed them, and just before his departure, having loved hi? 
own, loved them to the end ; and gave those touching admo- 
nitions and encouragements in the Gospel of St. John, which 
for deep tenderness surpass all that has been left on record. 
But he not only assumed our nature, but for us he tasted the 
bitterness of deatli — and such a death no man could die — deatli 
embittered by every element of human agony, and superhu- 
man horror, ignominious, prolonged, and torturing, in which 
he was deserted by man and abandoned by God. Yet how 
meekly did he drink the cup, how like a lamb led to slaughter, 
how fervently did he pray for his murderers, how kindly re- 
ceive the dying thief ! 

Oh, this is the Saviour for sinners, such as we are. It is 
when God becomes manifest in the flesh, that he who was far 
off, comes unspeakably, humanly near to us ; that he, who was 
invisible, comes forth from his concealment, and tabernacles 
among men. When the ineffable glory is veiled in flesh, and 
royal majesty stoops from its throne, then only does the sin- 
ner's heart feel reassured, rebellious feelings melt away, and 
he who was lost is prepared to join in the song, "Unto him 
that loved us and washed us from our sins in his blood, and 
hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father ; to 
him be glory and dominion for ever and ever." 



300 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



II. This leads me to speak of his person and character. He 
is God, the mighty God, the everlasting Son of God, by whom 
the worlds were made. He is God over all. As such he is 
admirably adapted to secure salvation for the sinner. Of him 
the prophet Isaiah spoke in the Old Testament, " Unto us a 
child is born, unto us a son is given ; and the government 
shall be upon his shoulder ; and his name shall be called Won- 
derful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, 
The Prince of Peace." Of him the apostle Paid writes to the 
Hebrews, saying, " For such a High Priest became us, who is 
holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made 
higher than the heavens. Wherefore he is able to save them 
to the uttermost, that come unto God by him, seeing he ever 
liveth to make intercession for them." 

When thus considered, all his attributes swell into infinitude, 
— wisdom, power, love, truth, — all are boundless as his nature, 
all are pledged for the sinner's salvation. They are not simply 
acquiescing, but actively engaged, solemnly pledged, deeply 
committed, and that from all eternity ; disposing all things 
for it, employing all things in it, making all things co-operate 
with it. "All things," says the apostle, "work together for 
good, to them that love God, to them who are the called ac- 
cording to his purpose.'' The Providence, Word, and Spirit of 
God, all work for our salvation. Salvation then is as firm as 
the everlasting hills — firm as the throne of God, certain and 
enduring as his existence. " Every word of grace is strong as 
that which built the skies." It is not of man, or angel, or 
archangel, the highest among them, but of God himself. Oh, 
how meagre is the religion of Unitarians ! How precious is 
the doctrine of Jesus' Divinity ! It is the central point in the 
religion of sinners ; the foundation of our hopes, linked with 
every view of truth and duty. It secures an infinite atone- 
ment, and a renovated nature. Thus Christ can save from all 
sin, from all the pains of hell, from the curse of the violated 
law, and the terrors of a guilty conscience. 

This law was perfect, infinitely good, and infinitely neces- 
sary for the welfare of God's universe. It was indeed :i tran- 



THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 



301 



script of the Divine character — the law of a Divine nature 
and mode, in conformity to its existence, indestructable as its 
being. It was stiict, unbending, unchangeable, high in its re- 
quirements! Sooner shall heaven and earth pass, than one 
jot or tittle of the law fail. This law was revealed on Mount 
Sinai, and written on the conscience of man ; so that every 
denunciation which it makes, finds its deep and dreadful re- 
sponse there. This law violated, utters the sentence of con- 
demnation and death. Where is safety ? No blood of bulls, 
no sacrifice of men, no hecatomb of angels or archangels, no 
tears, no blood of man or beast, could give safety. But help 
was laid on one mighty to save — on the man of God's right 
hand — upon " the man who is my fellow," saith Jehovah. The 
law demanded righteousness, a perfect human righteousness — 
here is one infinite and divine. The law demanded an earthly 
sacrifice — behold here is the Lord from heaven. The law de- 
mands a perfect separation — behold here is one that magnifies 
the law, and clothes it with new dignity ; gives new sanctions, 
and encompasses it with higher sanctity. The law says, I am 
satisfied. The conscience, sprinkled with the blood of the 
atonement, blood of the Son of God, may now enjoy peace. 
Here is the ark of safety. Here is the city of refuge. The 
Saviour calls himself the bread of life, the way and the truth 
and the life, the good shepherd, that giveth his life for the 
world. "I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall 
be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture." "Truly 
this is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." 



XV. 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



Rom. i. 16. — :; Iam not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: for it is the 
power of God unto Salvation to every one that belie veth." 



About the year of our Lord 58, a stranger appeared in 
Corinth, of Jewish features and Oriental attire. A man with 
a bald head, an eagle eve, and of diminutive stature was 
seated in a retired chamber in an obscure street of that mag- 
nificent metropolis with the usual writing implements of 
the day before him ; and as the rapid words were transferred 
to tablet or parchment, it was easy to see that they were 
written in Greek characters, and retained the Greek sound, 
but the sentences were moulded to the Hebrew idiom, and the 
earnest and solemn spirit of the old Hebrew prophets breathed 
through every line. 

Situated on a narrow isthmus, between two celebrated ports 
which commanded the navigation and commerce of the Ionian 
and iEgean seas, Corinth was then the most magnificent city 
of the globe ; the centre of Grecian civilization, the home of 
luxurious refinement, the abode of wealth, splendor, and profli- 
gacy. On every side were seen temples, palaces, theatres, 
porticos, towering aloft in unparalleled magnificence, adorned 
with the graceful columns, the capitals, and bases of the Corin- 
thian order. Pre-eminent above the rest stood the temple 
of the Corinthian Venus, rich with the offerings of innumerable 
devotees ; and within its walls were gathered one thousand 
of the loveliest daughters of the land, consecrated to the foul 
service of that licentious deity Jupiter. Apollo, Minerva, 
and many others had their own consecrated edifices, while in 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OP THE GOSPEL. 



303 



each private residence and all public places of resort, wherever 
the eye could turn, the statues of gods and heroes met the 
gaze, the most exquisite productions of the great masters of 
Grecian art. 

It was from amidst this scene of unrivalled splendor and 
effeminate debauchery, where the very air reeked with the 
foul pollution of its unmanly vices, that this unknown stranger 
wrote. And his letter was directed to Rome, the mistress of 
nations, the acknowledged metropolis of the world. And he 
spake out strange, bold words to those masters of mankind, in 
that unpolished idiom, and with that gnarled logic of his own, 
unheard till then by lordly or philosophic ears — but words 
that are ringing still in the ears of millions, and have been 
through all the centuries, the battle-cry of conflict and vic- 
tory in every great struggle for the renovation of the race. 
That was an age of deep degeneracy. The manly virtues 
of the heroic era were no more. The lofty courage, the stern 
and incorruptible patriotism of the earlier republic had de- 
parted. There remained no fear of God, no confidence in 
man, no public honor, no domestic purity or peace. Rome 
sat, indeed, crowned queen of the world ; conquered kings 
adorned her triumphs, subjugated nations crowded in myriads 
to the capitol, the wealth of the world poured into her lap, 
and along with the wealth of conquered nations came their 
vices too, to avenge their wrongs. Solemnity of oath lost its 
sacredness, the worship of God its reverence. The very 
existence of God, the immortality of the soul, the fundamental 
principles of morals, all were denied. All the bonds that bind 
society together, and restrain the beastly or fiendish passions 
of our nature, all were dissolved. If the patrician Caesar 
smiled in his sleeve as he offered sacrifice to Jupiter, the philo- 
sophic Pliny derided the immortality of the soul as a vision 
of human pride, and knew no God but the universe. 

It was manifest to all, that human society was hastening 
toward its dissolution. In vain did indignant' patriotism 
denounce the unmanly vices of the age and invoke the spirit 
of the mighty fathers, and point to the memorials of Rome's 



304 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



departed greatness. He called, but there was none to answer. 
The spirit of Rome's dead fathers had departed forever. All 
ancient patriotism was gone. The Roman citizen had no 
country, no home, no God, no hope, no manhood. In vain did 
they appeal to the ancient superstition, and recall men to the 
temples of the gods. The very gods themselves as they stood 
face to face in the Pantheon, gathered from every country 
under heaven, were the embodiments, representatives, and 
patrons of the vices of every land. There was not a passion 
or a lust that maddens the soul or corrupts the heart, or bes- 
tializes and degrades the nature of man, that had not its 
living representative and exemplar there. Men called to philos- 
ophy, but called in vain. The oracle was dumb. She gave 
no answer, or spoke only in mockery of human virtue and 
human hope. What could philosophy do ? She was without 
a God, without a conscience, without an immortality. She 
was mighty to destroy, but impotent to create. "Ye have 
taken away our gods," cried the yearning soul of many, " and 
what shall we do? The sweet illusions of our childhood, 
the beautiful mythology of our earlier days, the Jupiter of 
Olympus, with all his attendant deities, you have swept away, 
and where is the substitute ? " And philosophy was dumb, or 
standing amidst the ruins she had made, pointed in proud de- 
fiance to a godless universe, and a hopeless annihilation. 
They had shrouded the sky in blackness, and wrapped earth 
in sackcloth, had struck the very sun from the firmament of 
our future hopes. They had severed the last bond that bound 
the soul of man to the throne of the Creator, and all the 
impetuous fiery passions of his nature, loosed from their last 
restraint, burst furiously forth to deluge the earth in wine and 
lust and blood. Philosophy herself, amidst the universal 
consternation, took refuge in Epicurean self-indulgence, or 
nursed herself to stoical indifference, and haughtily and 
gloomily muttered forth mysterious and portentous words 
about the great Unit, God, Pan, World, All; irresistible 
destiny, inevitable fate, man's re-absorption into the infinite, 
and loss of all personal existence, and proclaimed as the only 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



solace for human woes, the utter extinction of man's conscious 
being, and his re-absorption into the infinitude of things. 

It was thus manifest to all, that human society was ap- 
proaching its total dissolution. There was no element in 
human nature which could bring deliverance or inspire hope. 
Amidst the universal helplessness and hopelessness of man, 
the great apostle speaks. It is a voice of strong assurance 
and of cheerful hope ; it is the tone of high authority, and 
serene and lofty faith. It is a voice from the throne of God 
himself, so calm in its sublime and solemn grandeur. He 
proclaims that the remedy which man would not supply has 
come from heaven ; that a divine power has descended upon 
earth, which with its silent but irresistible efficacy, shall go 
forth among the nations to mould society anew, to save the 
individual and renovate the race. "I am not ashamed, for it 
is the power of God unto salvation to all that believe !" 
Bold words are these, thou Galilean prophet, and boldly 
spoken indeed, among the sublimest in all human records, it 
only they be true ! 

But are they justified by the results ? Let us test them by 
the facts. Let us then consider the Gospel, first in its con- 
flict with the heathen philosophy, heathen morality, and 
heathen religion of the first three centuries of our era. When 
thrown amidst this huge and sweltering mass of licentiousness 
and idolatry and skepticism, did she vindicate her claim as a 
divine and superhuman power, penetrating by her own silent 
and unaided energy the entire mass, and moulding anew all 
its chaotic elements ? In the conflict with all these antagonist 
powers did she come off victorious ? Let us recall the nature 
of the conflict to be waged, the extent of the revolution to be 
accomplished, the number and power of her foes. The war 
was on either side a war of extermination. The revolution 
was to be universal, reaching all human relations, interests, 
hopes, fears, enjoyments, sufferings, — public, private, domestic, 
political, social, for time and for eternity. The antagonist 
powers ruled everywhere and everything. All human interests, 
prejudices, passions, all that could please the senses or dazzle 



306 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



the imagination, or fire the passions, or corrupt the heart ; the 
splendors of art, the graces of poetry, fond memories of the 
past, ambitious hopes of the future, the sports of the boy, the 
graver business of the man, temples and capitol, senate and 
forum, crowded theatre, merry festival, the whole great struc- 
ture and organization of human society, with all its relations 
and all its duties and its pleasures, were pervaded, imbued, 
steeped in the spirit of their idolatry . 

When the apostles went forth to proclaim the Gospel, it 
met them in every form, in every quarter an omnipresent fo e. 
It had appropriated to itself the whole domain of human lite. 
It presided at birth, bridal, and funeral ; over the deliberations 
of the senate, the counsels of the camp, the conflicts of the 
battle-field. The domestic hearth is protected by the house- 
hold god, and the statues of the first fathers of the republic 
stand side by side with the ancestral deities. Each common- 
est utensil of domestic use is consecrated by the image of a 
god, and the maiden's chamber and the festal hall are adorned 
alike with statues and with paintings where the loftiest 
powers of human genius are employed to lend the fascination 
of an ideal loveliness to the grossest of human passions, an d 
portray with inimitable grace and exquisite minuteness the in- 
famous amours of their licentious deities. Deep into those 
young imaginations and susceptible hearts sunk their images, 
and wide through all the ramifications of society is diffused 
the contagious pestilence. But side by side in all that heathen 
society walk lust and murder, for ever, from of old, th'e love 
of pleasure and the thirst for blood have been twin sisters. 

Go with me, then, to one of those scenes of public pleasure, 
where high-born matrons and noble maidens most love to 
crowd, with the teeming millions of Rome's beastly popula- 
tion, to glut their eyes with blood, and regale their ears with 
the groans of butchered thousands. Vast beyond all those 
other stupendous edifices which Roman wealth had erected, 
and Roman piety had consecrated to pleasure or to God, was 
the Roman circus, extending in circumference a mile, and 
seating within its capacious walls from two hundred and fifty 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 307 



to three hundred thousand spectators. Trajan, the best 
of the Roman emperors, grateful to the immortal gods for a 
glorious victory, will offer to them the most congenial thanks, 
and to the Roman citizens their best-loved entertainments. 
Images of the gods are borne in solemn procession, consuls and 
priests perform the sacred rites that shall hallow these deeds 
of blood. Ten thousand human beings, and eleven thousand 
beasts of prey, during four successive weeks, are butchered. 
And yet they cry for more, Rome's stately senators, and lovely 
maidens, as well as Rome's more brutal populace still thirst 
for blood. Think you that they will hesitate to shed the 
blood of those who shall denounce their idols and interrupt 
their sports ? 

Thus heathenism has laid her bloody and polluted hand on 
human society, in every department of private life, and claims 
it as her own. Government, too, is hers, and literature in all 
its branches. Emperors, philosophers, fanatics, magistrates, 
people, priests, wit, learning, genius, argument, eloquence, the 
tongue, the pen, the sword, all are arrayed against these rest- 
less innovators. Victim after victim falls an unresisting prey 
to the fury of the populace, or the zeal of magistrates. Where 
now is the power which shall triumph over these combined 
antagonists ? Where the thunderbolt, before it leaps forth to 
its work of death ; the earthquake, before it heaves the moun- 
tains and shakes the earth in its fury ? Where the great powers 
that move the worlds along ? Invisible to man. Thus is it 
with the Gospel, slowly, silently, irresistibly, invisible to hu- 
man eye, unheard by human ear, it is moulding all things to 
its likeness, subduing all things by its power. A few humble 
hearts have felt its influence. It is to them the power of God 
to purify, to cheer, to elevate, to save. It passes from bosom 
to bosom, from village to village, whole communities receive 
its joyful tidings. Already in less than half a century from 
the crucifixion, the great central cities of the world are full 
of Christians. Little more than a half century has passed, and 
the distant provinces are crowded with converts. A philoso- 
phical Pliny writes from his province of Bithynia, perplexed, 



308 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



despondent, to a philosophical Trajan, complaining that the 
temples are deserted and there are none to buy the victims. 
Men will not even offer incense to the image of the emperor. 
A virtuous Trajan wonders at the stupid madness of these 
men, would spare the effusion of blood, but the law must have 
its course and the obstinate be executed. A philosophical 
Tacitus shall write, that an " immense multitude devoted to 
this execrable superstition," are swarming there at Home. A 
sanguinary Nero, with that grim humor of his, will have some 
rare sport to-night. Those Christians impaled alive, and cov- 
ered with pitch, shall serve as lamps and lamp-posts too, to 
illuminate his gardens as the imperial charioteer drives in 
drunken merriment around. Satiric Juvenal shall describe 
them as they writhe and blaze in their agony, and the streams 
of pitch and blood flood the earth. 

But have not the fires of that persecution sent their illumina- 
tion throughout the globe, and flamed down over all the cen- 
turies even to us ? Strange thoughts are moving in the minds 
of men. The great heart of the world, long stupefied by 
sensuality and doubt, is awakening to new life, throbs high 
with hope and vague expectations. The Gospel is in the 
camp and the court, in the senate and palace, in the very 
temple. The gods have heard and are startled. Jupiter of the 
capitol has descended from his throne ; Apollo of Delphi is 
dumb. The haughty Roman has heard it, and paused mid- 
way in his career of conquest to listen to the story of the 
Prince of Peace. The subtle Greek has heard it, and arrested 
his noisy disputations at the mysterious tidings of Jesus and 
the resurrection. The northern Scythian has heard it as he 
quaffed his mingled portions of wine and blood from a human 
skull, and melted at the gentle story of him who shed his own 
heart's blood to save his enemies. Palpably this is no partial 
or superficial movement. It is human society moving silently 
and steadily on, beneath some mysterious, unseen influence 
towards some distant goal. It is the sweep and the heave 
and the surge of the great world-ocean moved from its pro- 
foundest depths with its whole universe of waters. 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 309 



We should love to dwell on the power of the Gospel as 
manifested in the lives of the early Christians. I know not 
how it may be with other men, but for myself there is nothing 
in all that history hath recorded, or poetry imagined, or hction 
described ; nothing that so moves the soul to reverence, awes 
it to wonder, subdues and overpowers, as the meek submission, 
touching tenderness, gentle love and heroism of those earlier 
Christians. Go read them in the pages of Neander, where a 
profound philosophy is chastened by a humble faith and ir- 
radiated by seraphic love. A volume is worth a library. But 
we must hasten on to those scenes of outward splendor, 
which most readily attract the gaze of men, to the culminat- 
ing point, where the contest is decided, and the Gospel steps 
visibly forth on the theatre of human affairs as the power of 
God, the controlling power of the globe. 

The Christian apologist had long before exultingly ex- 
claimed, " We are but of yesterday, yet have we filled all 
places belonging to you ; your cities, islands, castles, towns, 
councils, the palace, the senate, the forum. We have left you 
only your temples." And should the Christians withdraw in 
a body from the empire, its solitude and desolation would as- 
tound the world. Christians had meekly bowed their heads 
to the axe, and marched boldly to the gibbet and stake. Their 
gentle virtues had won the affections of mankind ; their sub- 
lime philosophy commanded their belief; their heroic courage 
extorted their admiration. Persecution, satiated with blood, 
wearied with slaughter, appalled by the number of her victims, 
had given a temporary repose. The Christians issued by 
myriads from their retreats, crowded by thousands to their 
churches, bowed with enthusiastic reverence at the sepulchres 
of their butchered martyrs. Superstition, weary of delay, re- 
solved to precipitate the inevitable crisis, and to stake its for- 
tunes on the issue of one last decisive conflict. The hostile 
forces met near the city of Hadrianopolis. The heathen army, 
led by Licinius, one . hundred and sixty-five thousand in num- 
ber, was strongly posted and intrenched on the mountains 
before the city, while its front was protected by the broad and 



310 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL 



rapid stream of Hebrus. The Christian army, a third less in 
number, lay in the valley below ; on all sides it was felt to be 
a conflict between the two religions for the mastery of the 
world. 

Before the battle commenced, the hostile leaders passed down 
from rank to rank, firing their troops with hopes of victory. 
Above was seen that Roman eagle, consecrated with so many 
mysterious and awful rites, which had floated for centuries 
above their armies, and beneath whose expanded wings their 
conquering cohorts had marched from victory to victory over a 
subjugated world. Above the other was seen only that strange 
and significant banner, badge of suffering and shame — the 
cross. The speech of the heathen emperor is still on record, 
made to his assembled officers on the eve of battle. Amidst 
the gloom of a consecrated grove and in the presence of his 
god, he pointed to the images of their ancestral deities, be- 
neath whose guardian care the empire had risen to glory ; in- 
voked the spirits of their dead fathers, and appealed to their 
pride as Roman citizens, against the followers of " that foreign 
thing which we now deride," whose ignominious sign was dis- 
played in the van of t heir apostate armies. 

The Christian leader pointed upward to that mysterious 
cross, memorial of him who hung there in his agony and love 
and in his name promised them the victory. With that name 
upon their lips, that banner above them, they dashed impetu- 
ously onward, through the waters of the broad and rapid 
stream, up the steep declivities into the camp of the foe. 
Miracles of prowess and success are recorded by heathen histo- 
rians of that day. It is enough to know that the pagan forces 
fled in dismay and terror, leaving thirty-four thousand dead 
upon the field. The banner of the cross waved triumphant 
amidst the intrenchments of the foe. From this first great 
conflict with superstition and philosophy and power, Christian- 
ity has come off victorious. The divided empire has regained 
its unity, and the nations repose beneath the dominion of a 
Christian emperor. 

But far and wide on the outer borders of the empire, hovers 



THE POWER AJSD TRIUMPH OP THE GOSPEL. 



311 



a black cloud of fierce barbarians, one hundred millions, per- 
haps, in number, soon to burst upon it, and bury all its glory 
beneath that overwhelming inundation. The Gospel has sub- 
dued that effeminate civilization ; can it survive the shock of 
this barbaric power ? From the shores of the Baltic and the 
Danube, of the Black Sea and Borysthenes, from the forests 
and morasses of Scythia, from the mountains and broad table- 
lands of Central Asia, from the extremities of Scandinavia to 
the frontiers of China, nation after nation sweeps on, crushing 
all before it and marking its path with blood and desolation; 
wild nomadic tribes, weather-beaten, toil-hardened men, in- 
ured to war and carnage, with no home but their good steeds, 
no law but their will, no God but their sword, which they 
worship with mysterious rites. Their horrid worship is in 
forests impervious to the sun, or in subterraneous caverns, and 
their altars stream with human blood. Terror has united with 
superstition to give them an unearthly parentage; the wild 
witches of the desert were their fabled mothers ; their fathers, 
those lost spirits that wander through dry places, seeking rest 
and finding none. Swift as the viewless wind in the depth of 
winter, or in the darkness of midnight, they issue from their 
snow-clad homes upon the fairest Roman provinces, driving 
the terrified inhabitants before them, and destroying all with 
fire and sword. If successful, they pursue their victories ; if 
defeated, retire to their impenetrable forests and eternal snows ; 
but whether in advance or retreat, their path is marked with 
smouldering ruins and pyramids of human skulls. 

They have served, many of them, in Roman armies ; have 
learned Roman tactics, and marched with their legions to vic- 
tory. They have visited as soldiers or as captives the sunny 
South, have breathed the air of Italy, have drank the wines of 
Capua, have reposed beneath the groves of orange and olive, 
have tasted the lemon, citron, and grape, have revelled amidst 
the luxuries of that delicious climate, admired the stately pala- 
ces, hated the tyrannous, and despised the effeminate vices of 
their imperial masters. Amidst the black forests of his wintry 
home, the northern barbarian dreams of Italy ; fires the im- 



312 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



aginations of his wild comrades with vivid descriptions of its 
glories, and promises an easy victory over its degenerate in- 
habitants. Tribe after tribe sweeps on, is defeated, driven 
back, returns with more ferocious courage and reduplicated 
numbers. Wave after wave is broken at the base of that de- 
caying colossus, strong even amidst the decrepitude of age. 
But the foundations of the great deep are broken up, the 
swelling inundation comes heaving on. No human power can 
arrest its course. The fainting legions slowly, gloomily recede, 
are routed, broken. The fierce barbarians pass on, and with 
no glitter of gold or silver or armor, no pomp of martial music, 
but with loud shouts of contempt and indignation, with clash 
of sword and shield and battle-axe, sweep away all remains 
of that ancient civilization. 

But time would fail us to pursue this strain of thought, and 
tell of all the successive triumphs which the Gospel was des- 
tined to win amongst the nations of Europe, thereby vindicat- 
ing itself as the mighty power of God. As it had triumphed 
at first over the paganism of Rome, and then withstood the 
successive inroads of these barbarians, gradually bringing them 
as willing trophies under its all powerful sway, so has it ad- 
vanced from conquest unto conquest till the present hour. 
From this long digression, let us now return to our text, to 
consider the feelings of the great apostle as, conscious of his 
high vocation in being called of God to preach this Gospel to 
the Gentiles, he contemplated a visit to the imperial city, 
and in the opening chapter of this epistle to the Romans, 
exclaimed : " I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ." 

We are so much accustomed to consider St. Paul as an 
apostle, that we are apt to forget that he was likewise a man. 
We follow him with such intense interest through the whole 
of his bold and brilliant career, that his name becomes asso- 
ciated in our minds with all the loftiest attributes of our nature, 
and we can hardly conceive of him as at all exposed to the 
common weaknesses and infirmities of the species. This is 
indeed the highest tribute that can be offered by mankind — 
the involuntary homage of the soul to transcendent worth. 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 313 



But it may be doubted whether the brightness that dazzles 
does not also blind us ; whether the very excellency which we 
admire, may not lead us to underrate itself. We never think 
of entering into the details of his character, of comparing St. 
Paul with other men ; and thus we lose the advantage of the 
contrast. We never estimate his character by the common 
principles that regulate the conduct of mankind, and hence we 
seldom understand how far he is elevated above them. There 
is no weakness, for instance, that is more universal among 
mankind, than that which is mentioned in the text; and yet, so 
far are we from supposing that St. Paul was ever subject to its 
influence, we are almost astonished that he should think it 
necessary formally to defend himself against such an imputa- 
tion. To be ashamed of opinions which we have impartially 
examined and honestly adopted ; to be ashamed of conduct 
which is founded upon these principles, and is approved and 
even required by our own judgment and conscience, is a weak- 
ness not confined to the ignorant and thoughtless ; to stand up 
boldly against the current of popular sentiment, and disregard 
alike the sneer of the wise and the hiss of the ignorant ; to go 
forth the advocate of truth in a corrupt and degenerate age, 
and carry on a fearless warfare against the opinions and preju- 
dices, the tastes and the vices of society, with no object but the 
welfare of mankind, and no reward but the scorn and contempt 
of those you wish to benefit, is to exhibit some of the finest 
characteristics which belong to our nature. 

Indeed we cannot conceive of a spectacle more sublime and 
more affecting, than that which is presented by a man, who is 
endowed with all those higher gifts of the understanding and 
the heart, which would have gained the admiration and love of 
all around him, yet devoting all the ardor of his feelings, and 
all the strength of his intellect to the simple work of doing 
good among his fellow-men, meeting unmoved in this noble 
work the contempt and hatred and ingratitude of the world, 
standing erect, amidst the storm that beats upon him, alone 
and self-sustained by the inborn energies of a manly spirit. 
When, in the course of real history or fictitious narrative, we 
H 



314 THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OP THE GOSPEL. 



meet with such a character as this, we are struck with a pleas- 
ing astonishment and yield it the ready homage of our willing 
admiration. But in reading the life of St. Paul, what in others 
seems astonishing, in him appears perfectly natural. To sup- 
pose that he would act otherwise would violate all our concep- 
tions of his character ; and the mind feels a painful incongruity 
between its own ideas when we attempt to conceive of him as 
shrinking from danger or courting admiration, as palliating 
error or concealing the truth. This is indeed the highest en- 
comium ever bestowed upon genius and virtue, because it is 
the united and unconscious verdict of friends and foes, the uni- 
versal suffrage of the race. But it may serve to render more 
distinct, and perhaps to impress more deeply upon our minds, 
a general feeling of reverence for the apostle's character, if 
we take a brief view of those particular circumstances, which 
tried and exhibited this character, and especially those to 
which he undoubtedly referred in the text, and which required^ 
in his own view, the solemn affirmation, " I am not ashamed 
of the Gospel of Christ," 

If Paul had deserted the Jewish religion and attached him- 
self to some school of Grecian philosophy, he might indeed have 
been branded as an apostate from the faith ; but he might 
have consoled himself for the loss of his old friends by the in- 
creased respect of his new companions. If he had joined any 
existing sect of the Jews, he would have indured the hatred 
of his opponents ; but his talents were an acquisition to be 
sought by every party, and would have insured the applause of 
his own. If agreeing with no sect of Jewish or heathen phi- 
losophers, but dissenting from them all, he had built up some 
splendid though unsubstantial fabric of his own, the splendor 
of his genius and the attraction of his eloquence would soon 
have placed him foremost among philosophers, and gathered 
around his standard an admiring crowd of followers. But he 
sought not the schools of Grecian or Jewish wisdom, nor did 
he choose for himself some high path of original or eccentric 
speculation. He came down to the lowest walks of humble 
life ; he was associated with the most despised sect of a despised 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



315 



people. The doctrine which he received was simple though 
sublime, alike inimical to the pride of philosophy, the fierceness 
of bigotry, and the licentiousness of passion, and his teacher 
was regarded as a peasant and a malefactor, obscure in his 
birth, and covered with tenfold ignominy by a disgraceful 
death. If the religion which he embraced had allowed him to 
remain in retirement, it might not have been so painful to a 
mind already wearied with noise and bustle, to seek a quiet 
obscurity, and indulge the pleasing revery of a happy immor- 
tality. He might then have despised the world's opinions, and 
forgotten the contempt he did not witness. But the command 
of his master, and the impetuosity of his own feelings, urged 
him onward in his active career; he met the full torrent of the 
world's bitterest derision ; he travelled from city to city, from 
country to country ; and though he preached with an eloquence 
that was unrivalled, and argued with a closeness that was un- 
answerable, and labored with a zeal and patience that were 
almost superhuman, wherever he directed his course he was 
met with the same salutation ; and whether lie argued with 
the Jewish Rabbis from their own prophetic scriptures; or 
reasoned with the Greek philosophers from the eternal princi- 
ples of nature and of truth ; or testified before the Roman 
governor of that wondrous vision which his own e} r es had wit- 
nessed, and that wondrous voice his own ears had heard ; he 
was branded as a madman, a blasphemer, and a babbler. 

Now we say not that the apostle was insensible to this accu- 
mulated load of derision and reproach, but we say that if he 
felt it as a man, he disregarded it as an apostle. Never did it 
force from him one word of despondency or irritation. The 
reproach of Felix, though it drew forth one of the most striking 
appeals in the whole history of eloquence, brought down on his 
own head no indignant rebuke. He once mentions, indeed, the 
ridicule of his enemies as " cruel mockings ;" but at all times, 
and on all occasions, both by his actions and his language, he 
proved that he was not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. It 
would have been indeed an interesting spectacle to see this 
obscure defender of an outcast sect, as he stood upon the Areop- 



316 



THE POWER AND TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL. 



agus, and propounded to the listening crowd of philosophers 
and common people the strange but sublime doctrine of the 
resurrection of the dead; to have heard him reason against 
the polytheism and idolatry of a polished city, and refute the 
idle speculations of a vain philosophy ; and when ridicule had 
taken the place of argument, and they who could not reason 
had united to laugh, who cannot sympathize with the noble 
sentiments that would animate the speaker as he cast his eye 
around upon the assembled crowd, and pitying alike the igno- 
rance of the multitude, and the pride of the philosophers — 
his bosom expanded by his own high truths, and his eye 
kindled up with the joyful triumph they inspired — he would 
exclaim in the language of the text, " I am not ashamed of the 
Gospel of Christ." 

It has sometimes been the privilege of genius, when strug- 
gling with adversity, when attacked by the venom of malice, 
or annoyed by the buzzings of folly, to look away through the 
clouds that overcast its prospects, and see in the admiration of 
a coming age a rich recompense for the neglect of its own. 
High and thrilling, no doubt, is the ecstasy that, in a moment 
such as this, swells the bosom of the despised and persecuted 
man. But, oh ! when the man was lost in the prophet, and the 
eye of genius was lighted up with the fire of inspiration, to 
look down through the long lapse of succeeding ages, how 
rapturous must have been the high emotions of the apostle as 
it glanced rapidly on from century to century, and rested at 
last upon the bright scenes of millennial glory. Surely if there 
were no reward in heaven for their labors upon earth, no tri- 
umph there for those who have fought and conquered here, no 
crown to be placed upon the brow which throbbed so anxiously 
below, even then, there would be enough, in a vision such as 
this, to excite far higher pleasures than this world has ever yet 
bestowed. But when to this splendid vision of years to come 
is added the sure expectation of a heavenly inheritance, we 
need not be astonished that the apostle should declare, "I am 
not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ." 

The apostle may be considered as asserting the natural 



THE POWER AND TRITJxUPH OF THE GOSPEL. 317 

power or tendency of the Gospel as a system of truth to influ- 
ence and save man ; or as referring more directly to that 
divine efficiency which attended it, in converting and saving 
both individuals, and communities, and the whole world. In 
either case it was distinguished from the heathen philosophy 
by the fact that the latter was powerless in operating on man. 
Philosophy had done all it could ; it had never exerted any 
healthful, controlling influence on human society, and on the 
great subject of salvation its inquiries had failed always and 
utterly. Of late they had been suspended in universal scepti- 
cism. They left all human obligations in doubt, and without 
any certain sanction. They left men's hearts and lives impure 
and immoral, and without a power to purify or heal. A 
divine revelation was therefore needed. The Gospel proved 
itself to be such a revelation by the certainty of its teachings, 
the purity of its principles, and the efficacy of its sanctions — 
the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth. 



XVI. 



TIIE REMISSION OF SIXS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



Acts x. 43. — "To him give all the prophets witness, that through nis name 
whosoever belie veth in him shah receive remission of sins."' 



The memory of that state of holiness and peace in which 
man lived before the fall is almost universally diffused among 
the nations of the earth. It is handed down iD their traditions, 
it is interwoven with their religion, it is celebrated in the 
highest strains of poetry by their most gifted bards. And 
the same traditions which have preserved the sad recollection 
of the fall, have likewise perpetuated the joyful expectations 
of a mighty deliverer to come, who should more than repair the 
ruins of the fall, who should restore universal holiness and 
piety and love on earth ; and the mild glories of whose ap- 
proaching reign should only shine with a lovelier radiance on 
account of the deep gloom which should precede his appear- 
ance. Thus the Hindoos still look forward to the appearance 
of their god Vishnu, who is to be manifested in the nesh, to 
overthrow oppression, and establish virtue and happiness on 
earth. And all who are acquainted with the ancient classics, 
will remember that one of the greatest Latin poets predicts the 
appearance of the great deliverer, this mighty king, even in 
his own day, and exhausts all the imagery of his fertile mind 
to exalt to the utmost our conceptions of the glories of his 
reign and the amazing benefits he should bestow upon man- 
kind. In different nations this expectation varied undoubt- 
edly in accuracy and distinctness, but in some it pointed out 
with amazing accuracy not only the character of this deliverer 
and the benefits of his government, but the precise time at 



REMISSION OF SIN'S THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 319 



which he should appear. And about the time of our Saviour's 
birth there existed throughout the world an universal expecta- 
tion of the great deliverer, the foretold in prophecy, the de- 
sire of all nations. That this expectation was universal among 
the Jews at the time of our Saviour's birth is evident, not 
only from the facts recorded in the evangelists, but from the 
record of their own writers, and the testimony of heathen 
historians. 

The appearance of John the Baptist, the crowds that 
thronged to hear his instructions, the trembling anxiety 
of Herod when informed of the Redeemer's birth, the numer- 
ous pretenders who arose about that period, and promised 
deliverance to the misguided Israelites, the blind fanaticism 
with which they gathered around these false Messiahs, and 
still trusted for deliverance, till hewn down by the Roman 
cohorts — all prove that the expectation of the Jewish nation 
was wound up to its highest pitch, and that the appearance of 
their predicted Messiah was daily awaited by the confiding 
nation. But all possibility of doubt is removed by the ex- 
press assertion of Josephus, who informs us, that their restless 
impatience under the Roman yoke, and their continual efforts 
to cast it off, arose from their expectation of the king who 
was to arise in Judea and extend his dominion over the world. 
Nor was this opinion confined to the Jewish people. We are 
informed by Suetonius, the Roman historian, that " there had 
been for a long time all over the East, a constant persuasion, 
that at that time, some one who should come out of Judea 
should obtain universal dominion." Xor was this expectation 
confined to the people of the East, but had extended to Rome, 
and taken strong hold, at a still earlier period, even on the 
masters of the world. Hence, Tacitus applies the prophecy to 
his favorite Vespasian, and this deluded prince, even pretended 
to work miracles at Alexandria, and long before Mark An- 
tony had applied the same prophecy to Julius CaBsar, and 
urged it as a reason why he should be crowned sovereign of 
the Roman empire. He appealed to the Sibylline oracles at 
Rome, which were doubtless the fragments of traditionary 



320 REMISSION OF SlNS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



prophecies scattered among the heathen, and the answer which 
was given by Cassar on the same occasion, deserves to be re- 
membered. He opposed the coronation of Cresar, on the 
ground that the prophecies which foretold this mighty 
king, likewise foretold that he should destroy the heathen re- 
ligion, and overthrow their idols. The Roman poet to whom 
I just alluded, and who wrote in the succeeding age, appeals 
to the same traditionary prophecies collected and recorded at 
Rome, and describes the character of the predicted king, and 
the happy influence of his wise administration, in language 
which seems to coincide almost word for word with a part of 
the eighth chapter of Isaiah. 

We have, then, the expectation of a great deliverer diffused, 
like the tradition of the flood and the practice of sacrifice, 
throughout all nations, varying in distinctness in different 
countries, but most frequent in the nations least removed 
from the original birthplace of the human race. We find 
this expectation assuming a definite form, and embodied in 
written documents, preserved by a people who bought them 
originally at a high price, treated them with the greatest 
reverence, and, when lost by fire, supplied the loss at great 
trouble and expense. We find them quoted by their politi- 
cians ; appealed to by their poets ; and above all, these singular 
prophecies, preserved by a heathen and a democratic nation, 
predict the coming of a mighty king, the overthrow of idolatry, 
and the establishment of a universal kingdom of piety and 
peace. 

Now this universality of belief cannot certainly be cause- 
less; this amazing agreement between pretended prophecies, 
preserved by Jews and heathen, demands some satisfactory 
explanation. The only explanation of these extraordinary 
facts is found in the assertion of the text, that " all the pro- 
phets from the foundation of the world have testified of 
Christ." Prophecy was not confined to the Jewish church, it 
existed before it, and beyond it. Enoch, the seventh from 
Adam, prophesied about the latter days. Balaam's prophecy 
of Christ may vie in sublimity and clearness with the loftiest 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 321 



of the Hebrews/; and Job, the afflicted servant of God, exer- 
cised a calm and delightful confidence in his Redeemer, and 
foretold that in the latter days he should stand upon the earth. 
When man had fallen from his obedience, he was not wholly 
abandoned by his God, nor must we suppose that the light of 
divine truth was eclipsed at once amongst the nations. It 
departed gradually and slowly, and its last setting rays would 
still beam upon some man of God, exalted by pure and ardent 
piety above the level of the world around him. Such a man 
was Job, such was Melchisedec, and such perhaps were many 
others, whose record is with God, and whose inspired predic- 
tions, reverenced long after their death, may have been thus 
providentially collected, to testify collaterally to the Messiah 
of the Jews. But when the world was fast sinking into 
idolatry, and scarcely a remnant now existed of the primitive 
theology, God chose the family of Abraham to perpetuate 
the knowledge of himself, and by a supernatural providence 
preserved them from idolatry, and maintained the expecta- 
tion of the Messiah who was to come. 

The whole Jewish economy was formed with direct reference 
to a better dispensation. Every part directed to the Saviour. 
Its sacrifices, its ablutions, its temple, its services and priests 
were shadows of which he was the substance. Their prophecy 
especially was full of Christ. The testimony of Jesus, said 
St. John, is the spirit of prophecy. Its whole spirit and de- 
sign is to testify of Christ. Nor is any prophecy of private 
interpretation to be interpreted alone, but in connection with 
others. For prophecy is a great connected system, part of 
the great plan of God, for gradually developing divine truth 
to men, commencing at the creation, and grasping in its 
wide embrace the interests of the church down to the end of 
time. Hence its earlier exhibitions are rather hints than de- 
velopments, intended rather to excite and preserve hope, than 
to gratify curiosity. As the fulness of time approached, its 
revelations became clearer and clearer, resembling the progress 
of the sun, as he first tinges faintly the east, then brightens 
into day, then rises above the horizon, and rejoices like a strong 
14* 



322 REMISSION OF SIXS THROUGH FAITH IX CHRIST. 



man to run his race of light and glory through the skv. In 
the moment of deepest despondency, the promise was obscurely 
given, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head," 
and Eve expressed at once her gratitude and her faith, when 
she exclaimed, on the birth of her son, "I have gotten a man 
from the Lord."' 

It was by faith, in this great deliverer, that Abel offered a 
better sacrifice than Cain ; and the pious Lamech, worn out with 
toils and griefs, probably referred to this hope, when he called 
his son ^N~oah, that is Repose, and said, "This shall console us 
from our toils, and from the pain of our labors from the ground 
which Jehovah hath cursed.'' Abraham saw his day afar off, 
and rejoiced, and well he might rejoice, when the promise 
which was first given indefinitely to Eve, was confined to hi* 
own family, and it was said by the mouth of the Lord, " and 
in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed."" The 
prediction became still more distinct as time rolled on, and the 
expiring Jacob said in the triumph of his soul, " The sceptre 
shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his 
feet" — or of his descendants — u till Shiloh come, and to him 
shall the gathering ot the people be.' 1 The prophecy which 
had thus been gradually narrowed down, from the promise to 
mankind, to the family of Jacob and tribe of Judah, became 
still more definite, and the promise was made to the family of 
David, of a descendant whose kingdom should be without an 
end upon the throne of his father David. The place of his 
birth was then identified, and Bethlehem, the city of David, was 
pointed out as the spot which should be honored by his first 
appearance. And that no possibility of doubt might ever attach 
to a matter of such vast importance, the very time of his birth 
was minutely specified, the period of his death, and the pun- 
ishment which should fall upon the guilty city which rejected 
him. 

In less than four hundred and ninety years from the com- 
mand to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, by Artaxerxes Longi- 
mauus, the Messiah should appear, and in the midst of the last 
week or last seven years of that period, he should be cut off, 



REMISSION OF SIXS THROUGH FAIT II IN CHRIST. 323 



but not for himself, and suddenly should come upon the city 
the abomination which should make it desolate. So remark- 
ably has this prediction been fulfilled, that infidelity has mis- 
taken prophecy for history, and charged upon the Jews the 
forgery of a prophecy which condemns themselves. Again, it 
was foretold by Malachi, that the messenger of the covenant, 
as the Messiah was sometimes called, should appear during the 
continuance of the second temple, and by Haggai, that " the 
desire of all nations should come and fill that house with glory." 
We all remember how distinctly the circumstances of his life 
are foretold by Isaiah, — " He should be a man of sorrows and 
acquainted with grief," — and those of his death, — "They 
parted my garments among them, and cast lots upon my ves- 
ture," — and again, " They appointed for him with the wicked 
his grave, but he was with a rich man after his death," and 
this, although he was the king of the Jews, the mighty God, 
the Prince of Peace. 

But not only was the Messiah to appear in the fulness of 
time ; he was likewise to introduce a new dispensation. The 
enlightened Jews never considered their dispensation as final, 
They were indeed the people of God, chosen from the midst of 
the nations around them, not for any merit of their own, but 
for the purpose of promoting God's own high designs, for per- 
petuating the knowledge of the only true God, and the expec- 
tation of the deliverer, who was in the fullness of time to come. 
Every part of their expensive and laborious ritual was designed 
to answer one of these purposes, to separate them from the 
heathen around, or to typify by their numerous sacrifices the 
coming of that great sacrifice who was to make an end of 
transgression, and bring in an everlasting righteousness. 

But it was never the intention of the great Creator to con- 
fine to them alone the benefits of divine truth, or to perpetuate 
a system which, from its very nature, was confined within the 
narrow limits of a single country. The first promise which was 
made of a Messiah, was made to Adam, as the father of man- 
kind, and this promise is interpreted by the Jewish Rabbins of 
their Messiah. Moses in predicting the future fortunes of the 



324 , REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



nation, distinctly foretold the coming of another prophet, like 
himself, the author of a new law, the mediator of a new cove- 
nant, the leader of a new people. The prophets spoke in lan- 
guage still more decisive of this coming dispensation. The 
covenant which was made when they came out of Egypt, was 
to be succeeded by a new and different covenant. That re- 
quired external service ; this, the homage of the heart. The 
law of that covenant was written on tables of stone ; this, in 
the hearts of the people. Under that dispensation the blood 
of bulls and goats could only make atonement for external 
defilement and involuntary sins; but under this all sin was to 
be forgiven through the efficacy of some mightier intercession. 
"Behold," says the prophet Jeremiah, xxxi. 31, "behold, the 
days come, saith the Lord, that I will make a new covenant 
with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah : not 
according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in 
the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the 
land of Egypt ;" but a different one, and how different ! " But 
this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of 
Israel: After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in 
their inward parts, and write it in their hearts, and I will be 
their God, and they shall be my people ; for I will forgive their 
iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more." 

The only mode of remission of sin knowm to the law was 
through the sacrifices of bulls and goats ; but in the Psalms we * 
have clear intimations that this mode was in itself of no value, 
and was ultimately to give way to another and better one, in 
which the external purification of the flesh, was to be super- 
seded by the purification of the heart, and the exercise of in- 
ward repentance and purity of heart. In the fifty-first Psalm, 
where David is confessing his sins before God, he says : " Thou 
desirest not sacrifice, else would I give it ; thou delightest not 
in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit ; 
a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." 
There were no sacrifices in the law which could atone for the 
crimes of murder and adultery of which David had been guilty, 
and yet he hopes for forgiveness ; and in the fortieth Psalm, 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 325 



we find the ground of his confidence was in a different sacrifice 
under a coming dispensation. " Sacrifice and offering," says 
the Psalmist, " thou didst not desire ; burnt offering and sin 
offering hast thou not required. Then said I," speaking in the 
language of the expected Messiah, "then said I,Lo, I come; 
in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do 
thy will O my God." This will of God which the Messiah 
was to do, and which was thus to supersede the sacrifices of the 
law, was done and suffered by the Divine Redeemer when he 
drank the cup his Father gave him, and said, " not my will, 
but thine be done." The nature of this substitution is most 
fully expressed by the prophet Daniel, in the ninth chapter, 
where we are told that the Messiah should come at the end of 
four hundred and ninety years after the rebuilding of the tem- 
ple ; that he should cause the sacrifice and oblation to cease — 
the sacrifices of the Jewish law — but should at the same time 
finish transgression, make an end of sins, make a reconciliation 
for iniquity, and bring an everlasting righteousness. 

All this was to take place in that kingdom, which the God 
of heaven was to set up according to the predictions of Daniel, 
and of course under a different dispensation from the Jewish? 
which was not to be set up;, but already existed. In the fifty- 
third of Isaiah, we are told expressly how it is that remission 
of sins and justification was to be obtained under this new dis- 
pensation, of which the Messiah was the head and author. By 
the knowledge of himself shall my righteous servant justify 
many, for he shall bear their iniquities. Observe how plainly 
it is indicated that the sacrifices and offerings of the law were 
to be dispensed with. Under the old dispensation when the 
sinner brought a sin-offering to the altar, he laid his hand on 
the head of the victim, confessed his sins, and the punishment 
of sins was transferred to the victim before him. The sinner 
was relieved from the punishment, and the victim was said to 
bear it in his stead ; and thus the prophet speaks of another 
sacrifice, better than bulls and goats, who was to bear our in- 
iquities in his own body on the cross. But not only was the 
dispensation to be changed, but its ministers too. "I have 



326 REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



sworn by myself, thou art a priest forever after the order of 
Melchisedec." Here we do not pause to ask who was Melchis- 
edec, nor is it important to inquire. Here is a new priest of 
a new order, not of the family of Aaron, nor of the tribe of 
Levi, for the Messiah was to spring from Judah, of an order 
not inferior to that of Levi, but superior, since Levi paid tithes 
to this order in the loins of Abraham ; not temporary like that 
of Levi, which was to pass away after it had answered its pur- 
pose, but a priest forever, after the order of Melchisedec. 

Not only was the dispensation and its ministers changed, 
but the offerings too, for every priest must have somewhat to 
offer, and we are told by the prophet Daniel, " That the Mes- 
siah shall be cut off, but not for himself;" and by the prophet 
Isaiah, that "He was wounded for our transgressions, and 
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was 
upon him, and by his stripes we are healed ; that we all like 
sheep have gone astray, and the Lord hath laid on him the 
iniquity of us all." But further, the dispensation introduced 
by the Messiah was to extend beyond the land and people of 
the Jews, and embrace in its wide extent the whole race of 
man. 

Thus, in the 2d Psalm it is said, " Ask of me and I will give 
the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of 
the earth for thy possession." Again, Isaiah, xlix. 6, it is said 
of the Messiah, " I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, 
that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth." 
Again, lx. 1, "And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and 
kings to the brightness of thy rising." And again, in the lxv. 1, 
"I am sought of them that asked not for me ; I am found of 
them that sought me not. I said, Behold me, behold me, unto 
a nation that was not called by my name." The Jews were 
called by the name of Jehovah, the people of the Lord; the 
people to whom these invitations were to be made, were of 
course only Gentiles. But it is unnecessary to appeal to par- 
ticular texts, to establish a position which is demonstrated by 
the whole tenor of Jewish Scriptures. All their ideas of the 
Messiah's reign supposed its universality. It was this which 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 327 



excited their highest feelings, and aroused their loftiest strains 
of poetry. They speak of a time, when the mountain of the 
Lord's house shall be exalted above the top of the mountains, 
and all nations should flow into it. When in every place pure 
incense shall be offered, and God will take priests out of all 
nations ; when there shall be an altar to the Lord in Egypt, 
and the ark of the former covenant shall no more be remem- 
bered nor visited. Their hearts seem to swell with the mighty 
theme, and they break forth into strains of triumphant joy in 
contemplation. Isaiah, lx. 1, 3, " Arise, shine, for thy light 
is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. The 
Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness 
of thy rising." And again, "the Gentiles shall see thy light, 
and all kings thy gloiy." 

Nor is the incredulity of the Jews any objection to the 
truth of the text, for this likewise was foretold by their pro- 
phets. He was to be a stone of stumbling and rock of offence 
to both the houses of Israel ; a gin and a snare to the inhabit- 
ants of Jerusalem. He was to be as a root out of dry 
ground, without form or comeliness ; they were to turn away 
their faces in contempt or abhorrence from him, and should 
esteem him as smitten of God, and afflicted, as visited by 
God's righteous judgments for his guilt. (In thy seed shall 
the nations of the earth be blessed, we have seen how.) 

We have thus seen a whole series of prophecies pointing 
through many centuries to an individual, who was to come at 
an appointed period 490 years from an event well known in 
history, and easily calculated ; a person who was to bear the 
most contradictory offices, and reconcile in his own person the 
most irreconcilable predictions ; who was to be a priest and a 
victim, a conqueror and a sufferer, a king and a servant ; who 
should be a despised and condemned malefactor, and yet 
should extend his dominion beyond the nation which perse- 
cuted him, till it encompassed the world ; and we see at the 
very time appointed an individual appearing who reconciled 
in his own person all these apparent contradictions, and real 
difficulties, in the most natural way. We have a system com- 



328 REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



mencing earlier than all profane history, avowedly looking 
forward to, and predicting the appearance of, this extraor- 
dinary individual, who was to establish a new dispensation 
founded on, yet different from it, the same in principle yet 
more fully developed, predicting its reception by the Gentiles, 
and rejection by the Jews, and immediately on his appearance 
we find the Jewish temple destroyed, the people scattered, 
their ceremonies forcibly discontinued, the very distinction of 
their tribes lost; and besides all this, it is now 1800 years 
since these things happened. Are all these strange coinci- 
dences the result of chance ? Is this world of evidence built 
up by the fortuitous concourse of floating atoms ? If, then, the 
truth which is confirmed by the miracles and resurrection of 
the Saviour, be likewise established by the united testimony 
of the prophets, we see how firm is the ground of our confi- 
dence, and how boldly we may come to a throne of Divine 
grace, seeking the remission of our sins through faith in his 
name. 

I. Let us learn from this subject first, the sovereignty of 
God in bestowing his benefits on man. By the sovereignty 
of God we do not mean that blind and arbitrary wilfulness, 
which acts without a motive or principle of action. There is 
no such sovereignty with God, for although all his works are 
known unto him from the foundation of the world, yet are 
they all done in perfect wisdom. But we mean that wise and 
holy government of God over all creatures and all events, 
which directs all, guides all, controls all, according to the 
counsel of his own will, and that will regulated by reasons 
and principles which are necessarily inscrutable to man, em- 
bracing as they do all worlds, and reaching forward into 
- eternity. Infidels have objected to the Jewish Scriptures, be- 
cause they represent the Father of all as bestowing peculiar 
benefits on a single people, thus transferring to the Creator 
our limited and contracted views, and bringing the odious im- 
putation of partiality against his wise administration. To 
this it might be sufficient to reply, that possibly the governor 
of the universe may observe relations and act on principles 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH EAITH IN CHRIST. 329 



which are not obvious to our feeble understanding, and that 
his wisdom may see weighty reasons for bestowing blessings 
on one nation, which he withholds with perfect propriety from 
another. But we are not left to conjecture on such a subject. 
All experience and all history prove that it not only may be, 
but actually is the mode of God's administration on earth. 
How different are the benefits bestowed upon one nation from 
those conferred upon another. One enjoys the light of science, 
the blessings of liberty, all the advantages of civilization, 
while a fertile soil diffuses plenty over the land, and a genial 
atmosphere gives health to enjoy it, filling men's hearts with 
joy and gladness. To another all these circumstances are re- 
versed. Despotic power, with ruthless hand, has borne down 
the first aspirations after freedom, and crushed beneath its 
iron tread the most cherished hopes of future improvement. 
A gloomy superstition has overshadowed the' people, or a 
stupid ignorance ; contented, motionless, stagnant, the inherit- 
ance of a«;es descends from father to son in unchangeable sue- 
cession. Pestilence breathes in the air, glows in the sun, radi- 
ates from the earth ; or a land cursed of God with barrenness, 
yields scanty sustenance to a few scattered and miserable in- 
habitants. Such is the diversity of natural blessings which 
God in his providence bestows upon man, and yet we arraign 
not his wisdom or his goodness ; how then shall we object to 
a similar diversity in the distribution of his spiritual blessings ? 
If one nation has been exalted over another in freedom, in 
civilization, in knowledge, in social comfort, in all that gives 
dignity or happiness to man, why may not another enjoy 
similar exaltations in all those religious privileges, which add 
still more to his moral worth, and exert a mightier influence 
over his final destiny? 

This we consider a sufficient reply to all that infidelity 
has urged on this subject, either in the way of argument, or 
in the way of ridicule. But there are Christians likewise, who 
are opposed to the doctrine of God's absolute and uncontrol- 
lable sovereignty over his creatures, because they have been 
taught to consider it as arbitrary and tyrannical. To such 



330 REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



we might plead, not only the administration, not only of God's 
natural, but likewise of his spiritual government on earth. Had 
the Jew no advantages above the heathen ? Have we no ad- 
vantages above the Jews of old? Do we not live under 
a clearer light, a brighter and better dispensation ? Did not 
the prophet look forward with longing eyes to the days of 
Christian blessedness, and long to see them? Now to whom 
do we owe these superior blessings, and to whom did the 
Jews owe the privileges they enjoyed? "Why were you born 
in a Christian land, under the full light of G-ospel days, while 
hundreds of millions are born, and live, and die without 
having one true conception of God or one offer of salvation 
through the only Mediator? Why were the angels passed by 
when they had fallen ? Why did the Saviour take upon him 
the seed of Abraham, and not the nature of angels? Why 
are you a man, and not a brute or an angel? To all these 
questions the only answer is in the language of God's Word, 
'"Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." We 
know his goodness, we know his wisdom, and therefore we 
believe that all his ways are ways of righteousness and truth. 
We do not stop to fathom what is unfathomable; we do not 
pause to investigate what is inscrutable ; but rejoicing in God, 
we leave all in his hands, and say, the Judge of all the earth 
will do right. This is the doctrine of God's sovereignty, so 
much traduced, so little understood, taught in his Word and 
in his works, in the dealings of his providence, and in the 
whole economy of his grace ; interwoven with every devout 
feeling toward God, and every true conception of his charac- 
ter; without which religion is but a name, and apparent piety, 
however ardent, is but a revolting mixture of atheism and 
fanaticism. 

II. Let us consider next the greatness of the blessing offered 
us in the Gospel — the remission of sins. There are many 
who nauseate the whole tenor and style of the Bible commu- 
nications, because it contains so much about sin. They would 
be much better pleased if its pages were wholly fil ed with 
glowing descriptions of the greatness and benevolence and 



REMISSION OF SIN'S THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 331 



majesty of God, and the kind and amiable affections which 
adorn the character of mankind, than to be perpetually an- 
noyed with the repetition of the truth, that men are sinners, 
and that the holiness of God cannot look upon sin with the 
slightest toleration. But surely if God speak at all to man, 
he must address him as a sinner ; nor can the inhabitants of 
this rebellious province expect that language of mild approval, 
and unmingled tenderness which would characterize a procla- 
mation to his loyal subjects. If he speak at all, he must speak of 
sin; and what a mercy that he speaks of its remission; that he 
reveals a scheme devised by infinite wisdom, executed by infi- 
nite power, offered by infinite love, and urged with infinite 
tenderness and condescension, a method by which God can be 
just and yet justify the sinner. 

Sin violates the law of God which is pledged to punish it ; 
insults the holiness of God, whose purity abhors it ; rebels 
against his authority, which must be exerted to repress it ; 
destroys the happiness of his creatures, which must ever be 
the object of his watchful care. When the angels left their 
allegiance, the penalty of violated law fell upon their heads. 
They were sunk hopelessly and irrecoverably from the heights 
of bliss into the depths of perdition, and the righteous in- 
dignation of God has reserved them under chains of darkness 
to the judgment of the great day. Well may we then rejoice 
when sin is the subject of his message to our world, that it is 
the remission of sin which forms the burden of that revelation. 
It was this which formed the subject of the first great promise 
to mankind, and this was the object of all God's subsequent 
providential dealings with our race ; to this the whole cere- 
monial of the law, to this all the predictions of the prophets 
pointed. For this the thousand victims bled on Jewish altars, 
and. for this the Son of God came down to shed his blood upon 
the cross. It was this the angels celebrated when they an- 
nounced our Lord's appearance upon earth, and. into this great 
mystery we are informed they still strive to search with all 
the ardor of unsatisfied desire, with all the delight of adoring 
admiration. Nay, they are gladly employed as ministering 



332 REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



spirits, in promoting this great scheme of reconciliation; and 
when one soul has returned to God, and obtained the remis- 
sion of his sins, those happy spirits tune their harps afresh, 
and a new song of praise and adoration resounds through the 
courts of heaven. 

Is it possible, then, that any of us should consider the remis- 
sion of his sins as a matter of small importance ? Would he, 
whose mighty mind takes in the vast concerns of this great 
creation, have lavished so much of his wisdom and his grace 
upon a matter of small importance ? Would he have foretold 
it in prophecy and prefigured it in types ; would he have caused 
the events of kingdoms and empires to conspire for its pro- 
motion ; would he have made it the only subject of his only 
communication with mankind ; would he have employed the 
holiest and mightiest of his servants, even those that dwell 
in his presence, and burn around his throne to announce and 
promote it ; would he have sent his son to reveal, to recom- 
mend, to seal it with his blood, if it were a matter which 
man might safely treat with cool indifference or haughty con- 
tempt? Would he whose smallest works are replete with 
wisdom, while the greatest of them dazzle and overwhelm our 
feebleness in the effort to comprehend them, on all whose 
doings is the stamp of the infinite and the eternal ; would he 
challenge all principalities and powers to behold his manifold 
wisdom in the scheme for the remission of sins, if there were 
nothing in the purpose for which this scheme was devised, 
that was worthy of him who devised, and of those whom it 
was designed to benefit ? No, my friends, it was worthy of 
God to offer, and worthy of man to accept. It is only after 
our sins are remitted, that we can have peace with God, and 
access to our Father's presence. By nature we are children of 
wrath. We are condemned already, and the sentence of 
God's law still hangs over us, ready to be executed. We are 
the enemies of God, and he is the enemy of the sinner. All 
his attributes are arrayed in fearful hostility against him. His 
justice cannot spare the condemned criminal; his holiness can- 
not endure the polluted sinner. His very mercy cries for 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 333 



vengeance upon him, whose obstinate rebellion wages war 
against all that is holy and happy in the whole creation. To 
estimate fully the value of the blessing which is offered in the 
remission of sins, we must calculate the extent of all which 
it presents, and all which it bestows. It can only be 
measured by the greatness of the torments from which it re- 
lieves us, and the vastness of that exceeding and immeasur- 
able glory to which it exalts us. To comprehend it fully we 
must understand ail that man can suffer, and all that God can 
inflict. We must measure the duration of eternity, and know 
the meaning of those agonies which have no measure and no 
end ; of the worm that never dies, and the fire that is not 
quenched; of that blackness of darkness which is forever and 
forever ; of that Tophet which is ordained of old, and the wrath 
of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it for- 
ever. This we shall never do, till the history of this world 
is finished ; till the number of the redeemed is completed ; 
till the happy have enjoyed all that immortal spirits can en- 
joy, and the damned have suffered all that undying spirits can 
endure, when reserved to high endurance by Almighty power. 

If there were no remission of sins, then the law of God still 
cries out for the punishment of every sinner. Then the long 
and bright company of saints, who have marched through much 
tribulation to the kingdom of heaven, must be driven from the 
seats of blessedness. Then all who will hereafter join that 
happy host, must be debarred from heaven. Then all man's 
long, long generations are marching to perdition. Then pre- 
pare the shroud for the hopes of mankind, and let eternal 
gloom settle down upon the nations, for the fierceness of God's 
fiery wrath is still unquenched against the sinner, and though 
heaven and earth should pass away, not one jot or one tittle 
shall pass from the law till all be fulfilled. No stain shall 
tarnish the perfect purity of heaven, though the race of man 
6hould be multiplied by itself, and every individual should die 
unpardoned. The happiness of the few on earth would be 
purchased too dearly at the expense of God's holy govern- 
ment and the untold millions of his obedient subjects. 



334 REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 



III. Let ns observe, thirdly, the folly and inexcusableness of 
the sinner, in not seeking the remission of his sins. If the 
benefits offered in the Gospel were small in themselves, they 
would scarcely deserve the anxious efforts of the sinner to obtain 
them. If they were encompassed with insuperable difficulties, 
we might lament his failure, but could scarcely blame it. If 
he were required to enter on some doubtful or dangerous en- 
terprise, the degree of danger and uncertainty would palliate 
if not excuse his aversion to the work. If the offer of remis- 
sion which comes to him in the Gospel were of uncertain evi- 
dence, then he might pass it by as an idle tale, and treat it as 
the dream of an enthusiast, or the fabrication of an impostor. 
But none of these suppositions are true. The evidence is full 
and satisfactory, founded on the most undoubted miracles, and 
the surest prophecies. The offer is sincere and free, the terms 
are simple and easy, the benefits incalculably great. But the 
very simplicity and easiness of the duty, furnish grounds for 
neglecting it. If some great thing had been required of us ; 
had we been required to endure some shocking laceration, to 
make some distant pilgrimage, to work out in any way some 
righteousness of our own, no doubt we should be pleased. 
But when the easiest of all things is offered to us, salvation 
through the merits of another ; when the simplest of all things 
is proposed to us, to accept willingly what is offered freely, 
straightway we are offended. Like the Syrian general we de- 
spise the directions of the prophet, and refuse to believe that 
there is efficacy in the fountain which is opened in Israel for 
sin and uncleanness. But, oh, will it not add tenfold to the 
anguish of the sinner in eternal torments, to remember how 
easy was the way to heaven, if he had only desired to travel 
it ; that the word was nigh him, even in his mouth, and in his 
heart ; that the fruits of eternal life were placed within his 
reach, so that he need only have stretched forth his hand and 
ate and lived forever. Again, if the mercy offered us were 
small, we might neglect it amidst the pressure of other urgent 
business ; and if it were lost at last, it might be compensated 
by some other gain, or might occasion only a momentary sigh. 



REMISSION OF SINS THROUGH FAITH IN CHRIST. 335 



But the blessing offered us is, as we have endeavored to show, 
incalculably great. It affects the whole of our existence. If 
lost, no other gain will repair the loss. It will not call for a 
momentary sigh and then be forgotten forever, but the mem- 
ory of its loss and of the inexcusable folly which occasioned 
it, will harass the soul throughout all eternity. Perhaps of 
all the lamentations which are raised in the pit of darkness, 
this will not be the least, that they have foolishly cast away 
the highest privileges, and trampled under foot the choicest 
blessings; have proved false to their own best interests, and 
with suicidal hand have dangered their own highest hopes. 
Is not this the meaning of that wail of agony which rever- 
berates forever around the prison-house of despair ? " The 
harvest is past, the summer is ended and gone, and my soul 
is not saved !" I had once a harvest where I might have 
gathered the fruits of eternal life, but that harvest is past to 
return no more. I had once a summer when the beams of 
God's favor illuminated my path, but that summer is 
ended and gone, and yet my soul is not saved. It is not so 
much what I am, as what I might have been that annoys my 
soul. The gloomy horrors of my present condition might per- 
haps be borne, if it were not for that image of the past, which, 
like a spectre, still haunts me in the cavern of despair ; that 
image of the past, reflected from my crushed and shattered 
spirit, which the more it is crushed and shattered, but multi- 
plies the more the hateful vision. 



XVII. 



THE EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



Matt. xiii. 38.— "The field is the world." 



It is the beauty of the Saviour's parables, that they spring 
spontaneously and naturally from the circumstances amidst 
which he spoke, and are best illustrated from the scenery and 
individuals around. At the time when that series of parables 
was spoken, of which our text forms a part, he was sitting, the 
apostle informs us, in a ship on the lake of Tiberias. Behind 
him was the sea itself, around him the boats of the fishermen, 
who resorted thither to procure their sustenance from its 
waters ; before him a mighty crowd, who had gathered from 
every village and city of Judea to hear him; while] far as 
eye could reach, extended wide and fertile fields, which hus- 
bandmen were preparing to receive the grain. And there sat 
he, the messenger from heaven, " who spake as never man 
spake ;" the sea behind him, the sky above him, immortal souls 
before him! What wonder that he should behold a deep and 
spiritual significance in the scene, and lead his disciples to 
meditate a nobler husbandry they had to pursue ; their seed, 
God's blessed truth; their field of labor, the wide world of 
man. 

It is thus that wherever the Saviour is, a new sublimity over- 
spreads the scene, and in every word that he utters, we find 
the evidence of the same large and capacious mind, embracing 
all mankind in its regard, and comprehending all time in its 
survey. 

I. Permit us, then, without further introduction, and imitat- 
ing the simple and familiar illustration of our Saviour, to re- 



EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE 6F THE GOSPEL. 



337 



mark first, that the world is God's field. It was his by the 
clearest, strongest, most indisputable of all titles, — original 
creation, and continued preservation of all things; for "of him, 
and through him, and to him, are all things, who is over all, 
God blessed forever." "The earth is the Lord's, and the full- 
ness thereof, the world and they that dwell therein. For he 
hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the 
floods." Psa. xxiv. 1,2. It is his to possess, and to govern. 
"He spread abroad the heavens by his power, and laid the 
foundations of the earth ; " by day clothes it with light as with 
a garment, by night it reposes beneath the shadow of his wings. 
He pours over it all hues of beauty, stamps upon it all features 
of grandeur, causes rain to descend, the sun to shine, dew T s to 
fall, maketh the out-goings of the morning and evening to re- 
joice, causing the cup of our blessing to overflow, giving us 
life and health, and all things^richly to enjoy, sending fruitful 
seasons, filling our hearts with joy and gladness. 

He is the former of our bodies, the Father of our spirits ; in 
him we live and move and have our being. "Oh, come, let us 
worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our Mak- 
er, for he hath made us and not we ourselves, for we are the 
sheep of his pasture, the people of his hand." We are his to 
possess, and his to govern. True, there is a prince of the power 
of the air, a spirit that reigneth in the children of disobedience. 
Long hath he waved his dark sceptre above the nations ; his 
dnrk banner hath long floated in defiance, with its dismal folds 
darkening the earth. His throne is founded in tears, in blood, 
but his dominion is an usurped dominion, and soon must pass 
away. Its death-blow is already struck, and it is tottering to 
the fall. "For I beheld Satan," says the Saviour exultingly, 
" fall like lightning from heaven," so suddenly, so vividly, so 
rapidly, so irrecoverably, from such a height to such an abyss. 

Man, too, dared to claim the world as his, to possess, to gov- 
ern, to pervert, to pollute, to scourge, to erase God's image and 
superscription from it, and stamp instead his own vile mark of 
vassalage. He hath trodden proudly on earth as a subjugated 
thing, but earth hath opened wide her jaws to devour him; 
15 



338 EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



and he who but yesterday seemed by his nod to shake the 
spheres, to-day lies cold in her embrace, food for her worms. 
He hath called himself in his madness, " Lord of the seas ;" 
but the sea doth spurn his dominion. Behold his masts shiver 
in the wind, his navies are crushed amidst the waves, and he 
sinks to rise again, when the Lord of the sea shall call him. 
Surely man, with all his pomp and pride, walketh in a vain 
show, surely he is altogether vanity. 

Thinkest thou, poor sinner, because thou hast rebelled against 
his authority, that it is overthrown ; because thou hast wander- 
ed far from him, that thou hast escaped beyond the limits of 
his government, the observation of his eye, beyond the reach 
of his arm, the grasp of his all-embracing presence? Thou 
hast spurned his authority ; like Cain, hast fled from his pres- 
ence ; burst his bonds, and cast off his cords ; yet, in thy deepest 
pollution, thy wildest rebellion, thy farthest wanderings, the 
eye of a master rested on thee, and the voice of supreme au- 
thority was heard, commanding thee to return. Ah, whither 
shalt thou go from his spirit, whither flee from his presence ? 
Wouldest thou take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the 
uttermost parts of earth? the hand thou spurnest must uphold 
thy flight, the presence thou wouldst shun surrounds thee 
even there. That morning light in its onward flight hath 
visited many a land ; go with it, and in all, the presiding and 
governing God is there. It hath blushed on eastern sky, 
brightened the distant horizon, penetrated mountain forest, 
and gleamed in the vale below, from land to land hurrying, 
and now is glittering on western sea. It hath glanced in 
its course on mosque and minaret, on Christian church and 
heathen temple, on tower and dome, palace of king, mansion 
of noble, hovel of poverty, entered that high apartment and 
startled the lordly slumberer from his dreams. It hath glanced 
through the low lattice, and hath fallen cheeringly on the pallid 
race of disease. It hath beamed upon that countenance lighted 
up with faith of the mother interceding with God for her pro- 
digal son. It hath visited earth as an angel of love, spreading 
her mantle of beauty over sea and land, and awaking the na- 



EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



339 



tions to a new existence of activity and joy; and wherever it 
has gone, on whatever field of grandeur or of loveliness it 
may have shone, the Omnipresent Deity was there, there in his 
power to govern, there in his goodness to bless. For the 
world is a field for the manifestation of his divine perfections, 
and on this field has he lavished, in boundless profusion, the 
riches of his wisdom and power and love. 

It is a wide field, yet wander where you may the footsteps 
of the Deity are ever visible, visible in the beauty he hath 
poured over nature, visible in the provision he hath made for 
man, and in the wonders his power hath created. Oh, what a 
field is this which God hath chosen as the theatre for the dis- 
play of his glorious perfections, a field where the flowers of 
paradise might bloom and cluster with fruits of heaven ! Alas, 
that sin hath entered so fair a field, to ravage and desolate it, 
to mar its loveliness, and turn its sweetest joys into fruits of 
bitterness ! Alas, that Satan hath entered it to glut his appe- 
tite for misery, his malignant hatred against God and holi- 
ness, and converted the garden of the Lord into a nursery of 
demons. Human passions, fiery and malignant, have made it a 
field for their mad career, with whirlwind violence sweeping 
wildly over it, blasting and withering as they pass, and mark- 
ing it with tears and blood. Ambition hath made it a field of 
rivalry and avarice, afield of cruel extortion ; sensuality, a field 
of brutal lust ; jealousy, of hatred and revenge ; and alto- 
gether a field of carnage, a perfect Aceldama. 

Oh, brethren, when you look abroad over the earth, and see 
how men and devils, in their very wantonness, have marred 
this fair field, do you not sometimes exclaim with the Psalmist, 
Hath God forgotten, are his mercies clean gone forever ? 
Amidst the disquietude of thy spirit, turn away from the 
deeds of man to meditate on the works of God. Behold the 
supremacy of his ever-present agency. On the battle-field, 
amidst the dying and the dead, his laws are not suspended. 
Man does his worst, but nature remains unaltered ; the flowers 
bloom as lovely still amidst mangled corpses, and the stars 
shine quietly on, over heaps of slain. God still continues to 



340 EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



manifest his goodness and wisdom, despite the sinfulness of 
man, and foils the rage of Satan. For this world has been 
for centuries the theatre of a conflict, more terrific and more 
sublime than any which the mighty men of earth have waged, 
when they deluged the land with blood, and shook the seas 
with the roar of their artillery. It is a mighty contest, waged 
by spiritual and superior beings, for sovereignty over the souls 
of men and supremacy in this field. 

It is in this fearful conflict, that this world has become the 
field of God's most amazing manifestations. He may else- 
where have built up greater wonders, and pencilled brighter 
beauties, and in the hearts of living inhabitants, as well as in 
material scenery on the surface, may have exhibited to the 
eve of intelligent observation a far more attractive and 
imposing spectacle. But in the fall and redemption of this 
world, there is something of far deeper and more enduring in- 
terest than in all the grandeur of the material creation. It is 
to the universe what Palestine is to our earth, a land of holy 
wonders. It is the Thermopylae of the moral universe, where 
the great battle has been fought, and the victory won, and the 
triumph proclaimed, and the Captain of our salvation, by 
shedding his own blood, has wrought an eternal deliverance for 
his people. Here then the world is his by a new, more sacred, 
and more solemn title, a title sealed with blood, the blood of 
his Son. And think you, shall he not see of the travail of his 
soul and be satisfied, perfectly satisfied ? Hath he purchased 
it at a price so costly, merely that he might cast it away in in- 
difference, or yield it to his foes ? " As I live, saith the Lord, 
every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess. The knowl- 
edge of the Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters cover the 
great deep. Every valley shall be exalted, every mountain 
and hill shall be brought low ; crooked places shall be made 
straight, and rough places smooth, and the glory of the Lord 
shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the 
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. 1 ' Unless prophecy be false, 
the world will be reclaimed. Oh, brethren, had we not seen it, 
could we haTe believed that this very field — where God hath 



EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OE THE GOSPEL. 



341 



stooped to manifest the boundlessness of his own high and 
eternal attributes ; where on every thing around are stamped 
in characters of light, visible and palpable to all, the revela- 
tions of his existence and awful presence — human folly hath 
chosen as the theatre for the display of human greatness ; that 
amidst these monuments of his power, in this majestic temple, 
which the hand of the Almighty hnth erected for his worship, 
and from every part of which, as from a living Shekinah of 
light and love, are ever streaming forth the radiations of his 
glory, before God and angels and devils — man would dare to 
istep forth iii the pride of imaginary power, and do deeds of 
devilishness, which wrap the earth in sackcloth, and veil the 
sky in blackness, and call clown thunderbolts of wrath ! 

II. But consider, secondly, that this world is also our field. 
Our Master's field is ours. It is his to create, to uphold, to 
possess, to govern, to redeem, and, by its redemption, to mani- 
fest most illustriously his glory. It is ours, to occupy in the 
Master's name, and cultivate to the Master's glory, and sub- 
due to the Master's service ; and what employment could be 
more elevated, what destiny more glorious than this, to be co- 
workers with God in the salvation of such a world ? But re- 
member it is not a couch for repose, or a throne for exaltation, 
but a. field for labor. Lift up your eyes. Behold how wide 
the field, how precious the harvest, how great the desolations 
sin hath wrought ! Call up, if possible, before your minds all 
the sins and miseries that from creation downward have de- 
faced and polluted the world ; the sighs of suffering inno- 
cence, the groans of the oppressed, who had none to deliver, 
the innocent blood shed from the days of righteous Abel 
downward. Calculate the victims whom Avar hath hurried 
into eternity. Let them pass before your eyes, the host of 
desolate widows and weeping orphans, whom the bloody 
cruelty of man hath robbed of a protector. See how the tide 
of the world's population has swept on, wave after wave in 
rapid succession, and each wave stained with blood, and 
mingled with bitter tears. Conceive the misery of a single 
soul, whom scepticism hath robbed of all future hope, or 



342 



EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



superstition hath wrapt in an eternal gloom, or idolatry hath, 
degraded to the level of a brute, or wild excess of appetite 
and passion hath inflamed to the fury of a fiend. Rather con- 
ceive the condition of a soul where all these various elements 
of misery are struggling together for the mastery, aggravating 
each the horrors of the other, and adding to their combined 
results the terrible anguish of uncertainty, then multiply these 
horrors by six hundred millions, and you will form some con- 
ception of the misery which in each successive generation sin 
is spreading over the world ; and shall this last forever ? In 
the name of bleeding and suffering millions, in the name of 
humanity and religion, in the name of the living God, we an- 
swer — Xo. There is balm in Gilead, a physician there, a 
remedy for human disorders, a panacea for human woes. We 
will rise and bear it to our brethren, wherever there is misery 
to be relieved, or ignorance to be enlightened, or pollution to 
be purified, or sin to be forgiven ; wherever man exists with 
his weakness and woes, there we will penetrate with the light 
of the Gospel in our hands, and the faith and love of the Gospel 
in our hearts. Oh, brethren, that was a fine thought of the 
heathen poet : "I am a man, and nothing human is foreign to 
me." But what are the interests for which in a moment of 
pathetic enthusiasm he felt such deep sensibility, in compari- 
son with those higher enduring interests which the Gospel has 
revealed ? Those interests are of a body soon to crumble ; these 
are the interests of a soul which, when empires had passed 
away, and worlds crumbled, would be just commencing an ex- 
istence ; whose progressive advancements in joy or woe, num- 
bers could not calculate, and only eternity could measure out. 
But where shall we find the spirit that is large enough to em- 
brace a world, and bold enough to dare all, and endure all, for 
the welfare of others? It is found only in the Gospel of the 
Saviour. 

Here is the grand announcement made, that the field is the 
world. On every page of this wonderful book, the Bible, we 
find the impress of the same large and capacious mind, em- 
bracing all mankind in its regards, and comprehending all 



EXrANSIYE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



343 



time in its survey. Its charity is as wide as the world ; its 
philanthropy, overleaping all national boundaries, expansive 
as our race. Man, at best a minute and narrow-minded crea- 
ture, engrossed with his own petty pursuits, anxieties, and 
cares, seldom looks abroad on the miseries of his race ; or if 
some tale of sorrow excite a momentary comparison, gives 
sparingly out of his abundance, and returns with quiet self- 
complacency to his accustomed enjoyments. The statesmen 
and philosophers of old confined their sympathies to the limits 
of their own country, and even in its boundaries looked with 
contemptuous pity on the poor and ignorant. But to enlighten 
the ignorant, to purify the polluted, to relieve the wretched, to 
civilize the barbarous, and humanize the beastly of other 
lands, practically to sympathize with human suffering, wher- 
ever it may be found, and to know no luxury so great as that 
of doing good — such exalted principles of action as these 
were unknown to man, till taught by him whose life and death 
were their most glorious exemplification. 

There is sometimes indeed among worldly men, a sort of 
poetic sensibility, which weeps and sighs, and is most wonder- 
fully pathetical ; and amidst the luxury of this pleasing senti- 
mentalism, you might deem them the most heroic philanthro- 
pists of their day. But this philanthropy soon evaporates in 
eloquence and tears. Hence in the whole history of modern 
benevolence, you will not find a single scheme requiring for its 
accomplishment a bold, self-sacrificing disinterestedness, which 
has not been devised by Christian zeal, and executed by Chris- 
tian courage. Nay, we most confidently assert, that in every 
great and beneficial revolution, which has passed on human so- 
ciety, in the opinions and conditions of men, in every mighty 
battle fought for the welfare of our race, the blood that has 
been shed was the blood of Christian martyrs ; the men who 
pioneered the cause, and the men who carried on the cause, 
and by their labors and sufferings brought it to a triumphant 
issue, were men versed in the doctrines and imbued with the 
spirit of the Gospel. Need I refer for proof to the establish- 
ment of Christianity, to the Reformation, to the abolition of 



314 EXPAXSIYE BEXEYOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



the slave-trade, or the mighty work of modern missions, while 
the infidel philosopher sat securely in his study, and laughed to 
scorn the fanatical folly which dared such dangers, with such 
remote prospect of success. 

In their commencement, modern missions were derided as 
chimerical, impracticable, and their failure predicted as certain. 
Philosophers laughed and theorized ; Christians schemed, 
Christians went to work, wept and prayed and labored, and 
now behold the result. In every quarter of the globe missions 
have been established; in fifty-six languages the Bible and 
other books have been printed and read; civilization has fol- 
lowed in the train of religion with the smiling cottage, the 
quiet fireside, the cultivated farm; and thus, while guiding to 
heaven, has Christianity been found diffusing blessings along 
man's pathway on earth. 

Now we say that this is all because Christianity has intro- 
duced a new principle of action, a new motive for human con- 
duct, new stimulus for human energies ; a stimulus so strong 
that it can raise the tone of human feeling far above the level 
of our daily and selfish anxieties and pursuits, and urge it on 
to mightier enterprises for the good of the species. It is the 
profound remark of Madame de Stael in the ablest of all her 
works, a remark founded on an extensive and thorough ex- 
amination of history, that no mighty influence has ever been 
exerted over human destiny, no great revolution produced 
in human affairs, without the influence of enthusiasm. Xot 
that wild and disordered passion which perverts the faculties, 
but that divine and noble ardor, which in pursuit of a great- 
object, elevates the soul above the ever} T -day weakness and 
bitterness of life ; above the appetites that debase, and pas- 
sions that seduce, and anxieties that perplex, and dangers that 
alarm mankind, and makes it master of the circumstances of 
which others are the slaves. 

Such was the enthusiasm of glory among the Romans; such 
the enthusiasm of learning at its first revival in Europe ; such 
the spirit of primitive Christians, when men w^ent exulting to 
the stake or the cross; and such must be the temper inspired 



EXPANSIVE BEXEYOLEXCE OF THE GOSPEL. 345 



by any system, which is to lay strong hold on the minds of 
men, and is destined to become universal. 

Such is the spirit of the Gospel, self-denying, self-consecrat- 
ing, self-sacrificing, of Him who came into the world not to 
be ministered unto, but to minister, and "to give his life a 
ransom for many ; " of Him who said, " I have a work to do, 
and how am I straitened till it be accomplished ; " of that 
Apostle who said, "I count not my life dear, so that I 
might finish my course with joy, and testify the Gospel of 
the grace of God;" of the holy martyrs, of the noble re- 
formers, of the modern missionaries, of every Christian in 
whose bosom reigns that " spirit of Christ without which 
none can be his." 

And here, brethren, we do fear there is utterly a delusion 
amongst you; that many of you console yourselves with the 
thought, that the missionary, the pastor, the theological 
student perhaps, ought to cherish and to manifest this spirit of 
entire consecration; but that for yourselves, a lower standard 
of religion will surely suffice. But what is the teaching of the 
inspired Apostle? "Xone of us liveth to himself, and none 
dieth to himself; whether we live, we live unto the Lord; or 
whether we die, we die unto the Lord : whether we live there- 
fore or die, we are the Lord's." "N"ow I beseech you breth- 
ren, offer your bodies and spirits a living sacrifice unto God." 
"Ye are not your own, but bought with a price, therefore 
glorify God with your bodies and spirits which are God's." 
Oh no, there is no easier religion for you; the same salvation 
is offered, the same motives presented, the same crown pre- 
pared, the same cross to be borne. Are your talents more 
limited ? then consecrate more unreservedly what you have. 
It was he with one talent who alone was lost. We need this 
spirit of self-consecration as much for its influence at home, as 
for its mighty operation abroad. We need the stimulus of 
some great enterprise, to wake up the slumbering energies of 
the church ; the power of some noble and exalted principle to 
expel the frivolous spirit of the world. Oh, were its influence 
felt only amongst us, how unspeakably blessed might be the 
15* 



346 



EXPANSIVE BENEVOLENCE OF THE GOSPEL. 



results on ourselves, on our families, on the many youth who 
resort hither from year to year ! 

Could there issue from this place only, one hundred young 
men, ten annually for ten successive years, whose souls were 
burning with the love of the Saviour, whose spirits were 
awake to the magnitude of the great work before them, whose 
minds were indeed cast on the circle of the earth, and their 
thoughts glowing with fire sent down from heaven, what 
wonders might they not effect, with the blessing of God on 
their labors. They might revolutionize a nation, they might 
shake a continent, their influence be felt and their voice be 
heard around the globe. Why may this not be? It is because 
your own influence, example, and worldly spirit render them 
worldly, ambitious, and vain. They breathe a polluted atmos- 
phere, and all their vital energies are palsied, and thus many 
congregations that shall pine beneath their ministry, the 
heathen whom they might have saved, the world for which 
they ought to have labored, all will rise up in judgment 
against you at the last day. 



XVIII. 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



John xiv. 1. — " Ye believe in God, believe also in me." 



There is an audacious spirit of speculation, frivolous and 
flippant, superficial and yet presumptuous, which refuses to be- 
lieve aught that it cannot comprehend and perfectly explain. 
There is an humble piety, ignorant and contracted, ever 
trembling for the Ark, like a man groping his way amidst the 
twilight with a priceless treasure, which is startled at the ap- 
proach of imaginary dangers, shrinks from the light that 
would unmask its foes and reveal their weakness, and in its 
terror loses its grasp upon the very truths which a manlier 
courage had successfully defended, and whose inestimable 
value alone had excited its groundless fears. 

If there be anything on earth of value surpassing all human 
calculation, it is a firm and assured faith. The strongest thing 
on the broad earth is a man of faith. There is nothing sub- 
limer beneath the skies. Beneath him is the Rock of Ages ; 
above him is the deep heaven of heavens, in its solemn and 
illimitable grandeur ; around him the awful majesty of God ; 
within him a serene and celestial joy. He walks the earth 
with a different step from other men. He is going to another 
country, even an heavenly. Dangers cannot awe him. Tempta- 
tions cannot seduce him ; for the love of Christ doth con- 
strain him, and crowns of glory, unseen by others, are bright 
before him. The arms of everlasting love encircle him. 
Angelic hosts encamp around him. Fires cannot consume 
him ; the sword cannot slay him ; for he bears a charmed 



348 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



life, and, even here, is invulnerable and immortal till his work 
be done. As heir -of all things life is his, death is his, 
heaven is his, earth is his, God and Christ are his. Xo 
wonder, then, that faith should have performed those prodi- 
gies of valor and power recorded in the eleventh chapter of 
the Epistle to the Hebrews; and left those bright examples, 
which the Apostle has marshalled there, in compact and bril- 
liant array ; whose names fail upon our ears as the trumpet- 
tones of conflict and victory. Men of faith have ever been 
men of power. Faith ! Yes, our faith— faith in God, faith in 
Christ, faith in all the words of God. Whatever else we 
neglect, let us not forget to cherish our faith ; to hold fast 
our faith even to the end. If health, character, fortune, 
country, family, friends — all were gone, faith would more than 
supply their place. 

But take from me my faith — tear from my bleeding and pal- 
pitating heart the sweetest and loftiest of all the hopes it has 
ever cherished — hopes which nestled amidst my childish 
thoughts, mingled with my boyish studies, and now, in the 
maturity of manhood, sweep from horizon to horizon of my 
existence, arching the heavens with sublimity and grandeur, 
and gilding the earth with beauty — rob me of my faith in 
that Eternal Holiness and Omnipotent Love revealed in the 
Scriptures — and who shall then repair the ruins of this deso- 
lated heart ! Bereft of faith, I am left alone in an orphan 
world, without Father or friend, without guardian or guide, 
without God or hope, to stand amidst the shrouded forms, and 
spectral memories, and sepulchral monuments of hopes that 
can live no more. 

No wonder, then, that the men of faith in every age have 
been men of honor ; that ages of faith have been ages of loft y 
enterprise, of heroic daring, of sublime achievement, fruitful 
in blessings to the world ; while ages of scepticism have been 
dark, dreary, and barren, passing athwart the track of human 
history, like the black clouds of a wintry night — now career- 
ing wildly before the fury of the storm, now drifting along, 
cold, sullen, silent, huge, shapeless, hiding the clear vault of 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITIT. 



349 



heaven above, and blackening the earth with their portentous 
shadows. 

Yet is there an audacious spirit of speculation abroad, which 
would rob us of our faith ; and along with our faith would 
rob us of our happiness, our moral worth, and all our moral 
power. It was to rebuke this daring spirit, and at the same 
time to chasten and cheer the hearts of all humble and trem- 
bling believers, that our Saviour uttered the language of the 
text, Ye believe in God, believe also in me. If the admoni- 
tion and encouragement were needed then, much more are 
they needed now. Ye believe in God, notwithstanding all 
the darkness that shrouds him from human vision, notwith- 
standing the unfathomable mystery that overhangs the mode 
of his existence and baffles at every point ail human investi- 
gation. Notwithstanding all the difficulties that lie in the 
nature of the subject, and those which ingenious sophistry 
throws around it, you still hold f ist to your belief in God. 
You cling to the fact ; you stand upon the evidence ; you 
thrust away all the plausibilities of ingenious and delusive 
speculations ; and still believe in God. 

Our Saviour's requirement is, " Believe also in me." The 
propositions involved in this requirement would seem to be 
the following: first, that the evidence in both cases is the same 
in kind and equal in degree ; secondly, that there is nothing 
more difficult, more mysterious or incomprehensible, proposed 
by me, than you already believe; thirdly, that there is nothing 
more miraculous in the one case than in the other; fourthly, 
that believing in God as you do, you already believe in every 
relation, duty, and responsibility which I inculcate; fifthly, 
that believing in God, you are necessarily shut up to faith in 
me. Because there is no other refuge for a sinner from God's 
justice, and from everlasting despair, except by believing in 
me. " For I am the w r ay, and the truth, and the life ; no man 
cometh to the Father but by me." 

I. Consider, first, the evidence. No man hath seen God at 
any time, or heard his voice. Invisible to human eye, unheard 
by human ear, impalpable to human sense, inaccessible wholly 



350 



THE PROVINCE OE FAITH. 



to all human scrutiny, lie dwells in his own immensity, unap- 
proachable by the gaze and incomprehensible to the under- 
standing of man. Yet do we know his existence from the 
evidence of indubitable facts — facts that lie within the range 
of human inquiry, and from which our conclusion is legiti- 
mately drawn, with intuitive rapidity, and irresistible convic- 
tion, on the ordinary principles of human reasoning. Yet is 
the evidence of these facts only human testimony. All nature, 
indeed, yields her testimony, and science, through all its de- 
partments, brings me her varied contributions. And sweet to 
the Christian's heart and sublime is the harmony of that loud 
and universal response, which thus comes from nature through- 
out all her provinces, and testifies to the existence and attri- 
butes of the Great Creator. Yet, let us never forget, that it is 
on human testimony that we believe each one of these sepa- 
rate facts, which startle us from our indifference ; and, by their 
combined and accumulated power, absolutely overwhelm our 
understandings, sweep away our doubts, and leave us only 
awe and wonder and adoration. 

When the anatomist points you to the wonders of the 
human frame, the symmetry of its fair proportions, the mutual 
adaptation of all its parts, their harmonious combination to- 
wards one grand result — the life and health of the human 
being ; when he leads you through all that intricate machinery 
of tubes and canals, by which blood is distributed through all 
the system ; that still more intricate machinery by which 
nutrition is communicated to the blood, its impurities all re- 
moved, and it returned in healthful currents to stimulate the 
heart, and to pour again through veins and arteries, in one 
living torrent, giving hardness to the muscles, sensibility to 
the nerves, incessant, never-sleeping energy to the heart, from 
which it issued ; when he points to the exquisite mechanism 
of the eye, the structure of the ear, the lungs, the hand, so 
admirably adapted to be the instrument of an intelligent being, 
so useless to all beside; when in every separate portion, and 
in all combined, you behold traces of a skill surpassing all 
human wisdom, and which all past centuries have not sufficed 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



351 



to exhaust by their investigations — remember, it is only human 
testimony which you have heard, and on this human testimony 
you have based your sublime and irresistible conclusion. 

When the astronomer takes his adventurous journey through 
the skies, and returns with his prodigies of discovery ; tells 
you of world after world as they wheel through the immensity 
of space ; of system after system as they pass in rapid and 
dazzling succession ; of great globes of light hung out there 
in the blue ether, self-poised, pursuing their eternal flight ; 
when he shows you a whole universe apparently rushing to its 
ruin — planets oscillating from side to side on their axis — their 
orbits for a hundred centuries expanding, then contracting in 
apparent lawlessness — and then shows how each is poised 
against the other, so that all these irregularities correct them- 
selves — how in the mighty march of the universe all things 
return once more to the point from which they started ; and 
when overwhelmed by the magnitude of the scheme, and lost 
amidst the intricacy of its movements, you fall down in 
wonder and adoration before the inscrutable wisdom that 
formed them all at first, assigned them their magnitudes and 
relative positions, gave the first impulse to their movements, 
and still keeps up from century to century, through incalcu- 
lable millions of years, the play of this wonderful machinery — 
remember it is on the strength of human testimony you ac- 
credit all these marvels. 

When the geologist penetrates the abysses of the earth, and 
tells you of buried species piled layer above layer many 
fathoms deep— the sepulchres and the memorials of an earlier 
world; and pointing to the structure of all their parts, shows 
that one grand design, one stupendous purpose, one all-pervad- 
ing, all-controlling, all-providing intelligence is seen through 
all the immeasurable cycles of the geologic ages — remember 
this too is only human testimony. They present the facts, you 
clraio the conclusion only. 

Now it does not signify to say, " many an humble and un- 
lettered man believes in the existence of God without all this 
testimony." He believes it, because he oannot help it. It is 



352 



THE PROVINCE OP FAITH. 



spontaneous, intuitive, conviction from all he sees around him 
and feels within him. The unlettered Christian has the same 
inward and intuitive conviction, draws instinctively the same 
intuitive, and rapid, and irresistible conclusion, as to the reali- 
ties of the Gospel. And here they are on a par. But I speak 
of that conviction which is the result of scientific investiga- 
tion, and here, after all, their belief of all the facts is based on 
human testimony. You never, perhaps, witnessed the anatomy 
of a single subject ; or saw a single experiment in chemistry ; 
or gazed through a telescope ; or calculated the orbit of a 
planet — nay, of all the distinguished scientific men on earth, 
how few have gazed through Lord Rosse's telescope, or ob- 
served the stars in the southern hemisphere, or performed 
half the analyses in chemistry; yet on the faith of human tes- 
timony, we credit all those prodigies of science, so remote 
from all the appearances of daily life. And why? Because 
there is no motive conceivable to induce so many men to 
combine in a conspiracy to deceive the world. It would sub- 
vert all the laws of evidence, reverse all the principles of 
human nature with which we are acquainted, while confes- 
sedly we are not acquainted with the infinite possibilities of 
things. 

Such is the testimony for the facts of the Gospel — the mira- 
cles and resurrection of the Saviour. Nay, this is far more 
conclusive. Have astronomers been called to seal their testi- 
mony with their blood ? Yet the apostles, and thousands be- 
sides, in the earliest ages, laid down their lives in attestation, 
not of opinions, but of facts — of miracles, repeated and vari- 
ous, occurring under their own eyes, appealing to their senses. 
What was the motive to deceive ? Did they not peril all — 
lose all ? 

Do you say, we see around us now the evidences of God's 
agency and presence in the magnificent revolution of the sea- 
sons? We say, so it is in Christianity. We see its mighty 
influences on human society; we see its grand fulfilment ot 
prophecy. 

II. The evidence is equal. Are the truths proposed more 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



353 



mysterious in the one case than in the other ? Here let us 
guard, in the outset, against a natural misapprehension. We 
have denounced this speculation as audacious. Let us not be 
mistaken. We are not of the number of those who denounce 
all speculation. Men always have speculated, always will, al- 
ways must, always ought to speculate. It is the natural, in- 
stinctive tendency of the human mind, the source of a'l our 
discoveries, to pass from the known fact to its unknown cause. 
Every man, every child has his little speculation. The very 
men who object against it, present their own speculations as 
an argument. The inquisitor thinks he may denounce all 
thought, reasons against the right to reason, and gives his own 
decisive judgment against the right of judgment. The only 
remedy for erroneous speculation, is to speculate aright. The 
only remedy for a false philosophy, said a departed father of 
our church, is a true philosophy. Our objection to this au- 
dacious speculation is, that it is false and. childish, that it has 
not learned, the first lesson of a true philosophy — the appropri- 
ate objects and true limits of human inquiry; and that it 
seeks to overleap the boundaries wisely assigned to all human, 
and, we believe, to all created intelligence, and wastes in search 
of unattainable knowledge the energies designed for subjects 
that lie within the limits of the human faculties. 

The first lesson of a true philosophy is humility. Its earliest 
utterance, handed down to us from the father of philosophy 
in Greece, is an acknowledgment of total ignorance in all 
that relates to the ultimate nature and essential elements of 
things. All human reasoning terminates at last in some first 
principles, admitted by all, and which can be proven and ex- 
plained by none. All physical inquiry lands us at last in some 
ultimate fact, too simple to be analyzed, too clear to be illus- 
trated, too plain to be proven ; which shines by its own self- 
evidencing light, and of which we can learn nothing but that 
it stands alone there in its inscrutable mystery. Such are all 
the great facts in nature to which we proudly give the name 
of laws. 

Nay, were we endowed with senses that could penetrate 



354 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



the inward structure of things, and see the particles of matter 
in their primordial elements, it has been proven, that still their 
movements would be shrouded in mystery to us, and we could 
know nothing but the facts. " All there is, is mystery," says 
the subtlest thinker of our age, " or nothing is mystery." In 
this sense the whole universe with all its parts is one vast 
mystery. The heaven and the earth, the stars as they move 
and shine, are all mysterious. Their motions are a mystery, 
their light a mystery. The flowers as they grow, the human 
body and human spirit separately, how mysterious, and in their 
union, a reduplicated mystery! What these scientific thinkers 
call an explanation, is but a removal of the mystery; or rather 
a multiplication of the mysteries to be solved. It is but the 
tracing of one fact, which cannot be explained, to another, or. 
to many other facts, equally inexplicable ; and then, after mul- 
tiplying the mystery, crying out that it is explained. For ex- 
ample, you see a star millions of miles off. How do you see 
it, and know what it is? The explanation traces it on from 
fact to fact ; each needs explanation ; and at last, the great 
fact remains untouched, that the mind perceives, by some in- 
explicable process, the distant star. You have not approached 
a comprehension of the process. Such, then, is that boasting 
and supercilious philosophy which comes, with great swelling 
w T ords of vanity, to rob us of our faith. It has not learned 
the first elements of true reasoning. 

Thus do we see that in whatever direction we turn our 
thoughts, above, beneath, around, within, all is mystery — 
mystery in the great worlds above us, in their light and their 
motions — mystery in the minutest particles of matter, in 
their attractions and repulsions, their combinations and de- 
composition. In all vegetable and animal life, its nature and 
its origin, in the human body with all its varied functions, 
and the human spirit with its inscrutable powers, there is 
mystery. The whole universe is one great mystery — one 
temple of the Great Invisible, whose mysteries we cannot 
penetrate, where the learned and the ignorant alike can only 
stand and wonder and adore — with a wonder the more pro- 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



355 



found, and an adoration the more devout and reverential, as 
truth after truth bursts upon the awed understanding, and re- 
veals to human ignorance fresh glimpses of that immensity 
which sweeps boundlessly away beyond the reach of man's in- 
vestigation. " I am but a little child," said he, who first 
fathomed those spheres hitherto unfathomable, and converted 
those sparkling ornaments of our night into worlds of im- 
measurable glory, " I am but a little child, standing on the 
shore of the great ocean of truth, and gathering a few pebbles 
to show to my companions." What that pebble is to the 
ocean on whose shore it lies, to the globe which holds that 
ocean in its bosom, to the sun which holds that globe in its 
orbit, to the universe in which that sun itself, with all its at- 
tendant worlds, is but a point invisible — such is this whole 
universe to the immensity of God. What, then, must be the 
mystery of his nature ! Surely the man who has received the 
idea of a God, who has analyzed it into all its component ele- 
ments, who has grasped in it all its vast proportions — surely 
he has already accepted the greatest of all conceivable mys- 
teries; and nothing more remains which can baffle the keen- 
ness of his sagacious scrutiny, or revolt the delicacy of his all- 
embracing faith. 

For, tell me, what is your conception of a God? God is a 
spirit. But what is a spirit ? Tt has no parts or proportions ; 
it has no form or magnitude ; it has no dimensions or color. 
There is nothing in the whole universe around which re- 
sembles it, nothing analogous to it, nothing to aid us in form- 
ing a conception of it. But, you say, the spirit is that w r hich 
feels, and thinks, and hopes, and fears — that which is capable 
of all these various emotions, and remains unchanged amidst 
the fugitive variety of its changing states. You tell me what 
it does. I ask you what it is f And I ask in vain. For he who 
has studied it the longest and the most profoundly, will be the 
last to venture a reply. Its phenomena I know ; for of these 
I am conscious. But that mysterious essence, of which these 
phenomena are the varied manifestation, and shrouding which 
they yet appear to reveal — what is that ? " What is the 



356 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



soul?" once asked a thoughtful inquirer of his friend. "I 
know nothing of it," was the reply, " except that it is imma- 
terial and immortal." " Let us ask Fontenelle," rejoined the 
inquirer. " Ah," said he, "he is the last man in the world to 
ask ; for he has too much sense to know anything more about 
it than you or I." 

It has been from my earliest boyhood, the employment and 
the pleasure of my life, to seek to fathom, if possible, this 
mystery of man's immaterial spirit, and to comprehend some- 
thing of its nature ; but after all my reflections, and all the in- 
vestigations of others, the conviction has become every day 
the profounder and the more intense, of that unfathomable 
mystery which must forever encompass a deathless spirit. A 
simple, primitive conception, it declines the scrutiny of the 
senses, eludes the grasp of the imagination, defies the analysis 
of logic; and when you question it, its only answer is, that 
which its great Author gave — "I am that I am." It stands 
alone, grand, solemn, peculiar, shrouded in its own impene- 
trable mystery. 

But God, you say, is the great First Cause, the great Creative 
Spirit. But what is creation? When did he create? How 
did he create? Can you describe the process ? Here, too, all 
earthly analogies fail us. The mechanic, indeed, may hew his 
timber into form, may mould it into beauty, and polish it to 
brightness. The sculptor, by a yet superior skill, may take 
the rude marble from the quarry, and shape it into the dead 
resemblance of a living man. Kay, by the strange magic of 
his art, he may breathe an illusive reality over the whole, may 
give to the form all the grace of beauty, and to the brow the 
majesty of genius, till the love of the mighty dead shall live 
again to the imagination and almost to the eye. But these 
have the materials on which they operate, the instruments with 
which they work. Here, however, there are no instruments 
or materials with which, and on which, to begin the work of 
creation. Do you say, he called all things out of nothing ? 
But what is nothing? Has it any existence? And if it had, 
Were all things contained from eternity in its bosom, to leap 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



357 



forth into being at his Omnipotent fiat? View it in whatever 
form you may — cast it into any form of human expression — 
shape it to any mould of thought — it is, at last, a primitive, in- 
definable conception, too simple to be analyzed, too peculiar to 
be illustrated from any other source. It remains, and ever 
must remain, an original, isolated, sublime reality, to be ac- 
cepted on its own appropriate evidence as an inexplicable fact. 

But God is a spirit, infinite, immutable, eternal, omniscient, 
omnipresent, almighty. If, then, it is so difficult to form any 
conception of a finite spirit like our own, how does the diffi- 
culty increase, and the perplexities multiply, when you pro- 
ject your conception of a spirit into infinity, expand it over 
eternity, diffuse it through immensity ; and thus add to its in- 
herent difficulties, every other element most incommensurable 
with the jiowers of the human understanding. Eternity — 
what is the eternity of God ? Will you first tell us, what is 
time? All past ages, with their combined powers of investi- 
gation, have sought to give the answer, and have sought in 
vain. "Time," says the latest transcendental philosopher, "is 
nothing in things themselves, or in events, or in their relations. 
Time is a form of human thought." " Time," says the most 
subtle thinker who has written in the English language for 
half a century, "Time is nothing in things or in events; 
time is the relation of priority and succession between events." 
That is equivalent to saying — time is time. Most luminously 
spoken ! Surely wisdom will die with the luminaries of our 
benighted race ! "Time," it is said, " is the relation of priority 
and succession in events." But what is a relation ? Can you 
define it? The subtlest analyst of human thought in our 
country has exhausted all his ingenuity in the effort, and by 
universal admission has most signally failed. 

But if it be so difficult to tell what time is, what shall we 
say of eternity ? Here modern science, with all her multiplied 
discoveries, comes to our assistance ; but comes in vain. In 
vain do we strive to clamber upw T ard, step by step, on that ladder 
of ascent, which reaches from heaven to earth, and from earth 
back to heaven, whose lowest round is upon the earth, while 



358 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



its summit rests upon the throne of the Eternal, and is lost to 
our view amidst the invisibilities of that awful throne. Reason 
reels beneath the weight of her own stupendous discoveries, 
and imagination falters on wearied wing, as she expatiates 
amidst those millions of ages, which, when multiplied by other 
millions, are not the sum, but the commencement of eternity. 
Our brief year, and still briefer day, are measured out by annual 
and diurnal revolutions of the earth. Five hundred of our 
years would scarce suffice to measure the period of revolution, 
in its eccentric orbit of one of our best-known comets. One 
thousand of our years would be but a single year in the dis- 
tant planet of our own little system. Eighteen hundred mil- 
lions of years is the period assigned by the greatest astrono- 
mers of our day for the revolution of our sun, in its amazing 
orbit around its distant centre, in the farthest heavens. But 
in vain do we add millions upon millions, and multiply these 
again by other millions, in the effort to grasp eternity. In 
vain do we summon to our aid all the powers of calculation, 
and let imagination loose, to rise from summit to summit in 
this sublime and perilous ascent. For, after all, this is not eter- 
nity. That sun began to shine. These revolutions are not of 
eternity. And when the soul of man, of higher and nobler 
elements than the sun himself, and destined for a far more 
magnificent career, sweeps backward in thought beyond the 
hour when suns began to shine, behold she stands amidst eter- 
nity. Behind her are the ages of the eternity past; before 
her is the eternity of ages yet to come. Around, above, be- 
neath, on every side, stretches far away, in its silent and 
solemn grandeur, the immensity which is the dwelling-place of 
God. No sun, no stars of light, no moon, no day, no night, 
no revolutions of the spheres are here. No voice or form of 
man, or angel, is seen or heard amid the void and voiceless 
infinite. 

Who can comprehend this immensity ! Our modern science 
expands our views, and elevates our conceptions, and seems to 
invite us to the effort. But it is only to show us the nothing- 
ness of man, in comparison with the infinitude of God. The 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



359 



smallest of those intervals, with which our astronomy is con- 
versant, stretches immeasurably beyond our utmost powers of 

j conception, leaving us to wonder that our geometry can de- 
monstrate what our imagination cannot grasp. One hundred 
millions of miles is about the interval which separates us from 

l our sun. One thousand times that distance will not bring us 
to the last-discovered planet of our little system. When we 
attempt to ascertain the distance of one of those fixed stars, 
that are visible by millions, in our sky, we find that the diame- 
ter of the earth's orbit around the sun — two hundred millions 
of miles in length— is too short for the base-line of such a meas- 
urement ; that the lines, drawn from each extremity of this pro- 
digious length, run up into each other, and the angle they in- 
close absolutely vanishes, as if they issued from a single point. 
Now, transport yourself in imagination to such a star as this. 
As you pass onward and upward, the moon soon fades, the 
planets disappear, the sun diminishes, grows dim, twinkles as 
a bright spot in the distant heavens. A new firmament is now 
above your head. New constellations shed their radiance on 
your pathway. The order of these lower heavens is reversed. 
Suns revolve around suns in gorgeous magnificence, and pour 
their radiance on your head, where all the colors of the rain- 
bow meet, in varied combination, as if the broad arch of hea- 
ven were one perpetual memorial of love and safety, sent from 
the Father of lights to his unfallen offspring. 

Astronomers, who have looked through the best constructed 
of our modern telescopes, assure us that the first emotion of 
all beholders is one wild gush of ecstaoy and wonder, mount- 
ing up to almost delirious joy, and subsiding finally into a calm 
and solemn exaltation of soul, awed by the surpassing gran- 
deur of the scene, yet expanded and elevated by the very 
grandeur that subdues and overwhelms. Standing now in one 
of those uppermost worlds, with the keener vision and superior 
instruments which they may enjoy, let us sweep the whole 
heaven of heavens in one rapid and magnificent survey. Yet 
far beyond the reach of eye or telescope, beyond the range of 
angel vision or angel flight, stretches inimitably on the im- 



360 



THE PROVINCE OE FAITH. 



mensity of God's creation, with new families of worlds, new 
forms of existence, new sources of enjoyment, new methods 
of administration, new firmaments of glory, each separate, yet 
all united ; formed by one wisdom, upheld by one power, per- 
vaded by one presence, subordinated to one higli purpose, and 
ultimately, in one grand result, guided by one supreme intelli- 
gence. Stupendous eternity ! Infinite complexity ! Oh, the 
depths of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of 
God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways 
past finding out ! Lo ! these are parts of his ways ; yet how 
faint is the whisper we have heard of him. But the full thun- 
der of his power, who can understand ? Canst thou then, by 
searching, find out God; canst thou find out the Almighty to 
perfection ? Behold, it is higher than heaven ; what canst 
thou know ? It is deeper than hell ; what canst thou do ? The 
measure thereof is wider than the earth, and broader than the 
sea. Lift up your eyes on high ; and behold, who hath created 
these things; that bringeth out their host by number. He 
calleth them all by name ; by reason of the greatness of his 
might; for that he is strong in power, not one faileth. He 
sitteth on the circle of the earth ; and hath measured the 
ocean in the hollow of his hand ; and hath meted out the 
heavens with a span ; and comprehended the dust of the earth 
in a measure ; and weighed the mountains in scales, and the 
hills in a balance. To whom then will ye liken me, or shall I 
be equal, saith the Holy One ? Gird up thyself now like a 
man, and answer me. When I laid the foundations of the 
earth, where wast thou ? When I stretched out the heavens 
over emptiness, and hung the earth on nothing; when the 
morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for 
joy ; when I shut up the sea with doors, and set bars and bolts, 
and said, thus far shalt thou come, and no farther; and here 
shall thy proud waves be stayed. Canst thou bind the sweet 
influences of Pleiades; or loose the bands of Orion? Canst 
thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season ; or canst thou guide 
Arc-turns with his sons ? Hast thou an arm like God ? Canst 
thou thunder with a voice like his ? Be still then, and know 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



361 



that I am God. Before tlie mountains were brought forth, or 
! ever thou hadst formed, the earth and the world, even from 
everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. They shall perish, 
I but thou remainest. They shall all wax old, as doth a gar- 
ment, and as a vesture shalt thou fold them up; and they shall 
be changed. But thou art the same ; from eternity to eternity, 
j still unchanged ; without variableness or shadow of turning, 
the first and the last, the beginning and the end, the omnis- 
cient, the omnipresent, the Almighty. Oh, whither shall I go 
from thy Spirit ; or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If 
I ascend up into heaven ; thou art there. If I make my bed 
in hell; behold thou art there. If I take the wings of the 
morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even 
there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold 
me. If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me ; even the 
nio;ht shall be lio;ht about me. The darkness and the liodit are 
both alike to thee. Thou hast beset me before, and behind, 
and laid thine hand upon me. 

Well might the inspired psalmist exclaim, " Such knowledge 
is too wonderful for me ; it is high, I cannot attain unto it." 
And who can comprehend the height, or the depth, or the 
length, or the breadth, of these amazing attributes — the om- 
niscience that includes things that are not, as well as things 
that are, all things that shall be, and might be, as well as those 
that have been — a being that is present alike through all time, 
and all space — through all time, without having any relation 
to time, and all space, without relation to space — present, at 
every moment of time and each point in space, not by a dis- 
tribution of his powers, but in the absolute totality of all his 
amazing attributes, in the full intensity of his whole undivided 
essence, lavishing all the resources of his eternal wisdom and 
almighty power, as truly when he gilds the wing of an insect, 
or pencils the leaflet of a flower, as when he creates an angel, 
kindles a sun, or upholds the universe. 

Ye believe in God ; believe also in me. If ye believe in 
God, as manifested in the works of creation ; believe in him 
likewise as manifested in the person of his Son. Do you a*k 
16 



362 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



me to explain the nature and mode of that connection which 
exists between the infinite Creator, and a finite being, the 
mystery of an Incarnate God ? I answer most cheerfully, if 
you will explain the nature of that relation which he bears to 
all around. Know you not that he is present, most intimately, 
vitally, essentially present, in a most mysterious and inscru- 
table manner, to all that lives, to all that is ? He is present in 
the hidden elements of matter, present in all the operations of 
mind ; present, not as a dead abstraction, but as a living power, 
pervading all, sustaining all, vivifying all, controlling, direct- 
ing, limiting all. He is nearer to each one of us, than our 
spirit to the body which it animates; nearer than any particle 
of this body to the particle immediately adjoining, with an 
intimacy of relation for which nature has no illustration ; be- 
cause for it she has no parallel and no counterpart. It is the 
relation of the Creator to the creatures he has made, of 
the source of all life to life derived from him. He is present 
in the glowing sun, in the glittering stars, in the blossoming 
flowers. He rides in the whirlwind, thunders in the storm ; 
foresees all without forcing any; reigns sovereign controller 
amidst the freedom of human agency, and causes the folly and 
madness of man, alike to accomplish his purposes of wisdom 
and mercy. In him we live and move and have our being. By 
him were all things created, and in him do will things subsist. 

It is the mysterious relation which the Creator must bear to 
all his creatures that has led the atheist to deny the existence 
of a God, though the evidence of his existence is everywhere 
around us. And when the evidence could not be denied, the 
pantheist, in turn, has been led thus to make the universe^ a 
God, and all its various parts a portion of the universal Deity, 
attributing to the leaf that grows, and to the salt that crystal- 
lizes, the wisdom which he denies to the supreme intelligence. 
But if there be this mysterious connection with all, why may 
there not be a peculiar connection, though equally inexplicable, 
with one ? If God is intimately present, connected with, and 
manifest in, all his work, what is there unreasonable, or diffi- 
cult to believe, in the fact that he becomes incarnate and mani- 



V 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



363 



fest in the person of his Son ? If you can believe in the God 
of nature, and the God of creation, .notwithstanding all the 
difficulties and the mysteries involved in such a belief; where 
is the unreasonableness of believing in me as the Incarnate 
One, sent to redeem the world from sin ; and of believing that 
God is in me, reconciling the world unto himself? 

Do you say, I object, as unreasonable, to such a union of God 
and man in Christ, as constitutes identity of person. I ask, in 
reply, if you have solved the still greater difficulty which is 
presented in your own person ? If the union of spirit with 
spirit, in harmonious combination, be a problem too difficult 
for the Divine omnipotence, what say you to the union of an 
immaterial spirit and a material body in man's nature ; of a 
spirit absolutely one and simple, with a body whose particles 
are infinite in number ; nay, of a spirit which remains perma- 
nently the same, with particles that are forever changing ; and 
yet, amidst all these changes, the irresistible consciousness that 
there is constantly the self-same person, composed of material 
body, and an immaterial spirit ? Will you deny your own iden- 
tity ? Will you deny that you have a body, or that you have 
a soul ? How body is connected with spirit, we do not know. 
The fact, that they are connected, we do know and believe, how- 
ever inexplicable ; because of that we have sufficient evidence. 
How the Divine nature is connected with the human in the per- 
son of the Saviour, we do not know. This is not offered to our 
belief. Nor does it demand our investigation. The fact we 
receive, as any other fact, on the authority of testimony. 
There may be mystery here, if you please ; but it is the mys- 
tery which belongs to all human things, overhangs all human 
knowledge, and is inseparable from the nature and limits of 
the human faculties. The real mystery is, that men, who pro- 
fess to think, should be so slow to learn the first lesson in all 
true reasoning — the appropriate objects and real limits of hu- 
man knowledge — that first dictate of sound philosophy and 
common sense, and earliest result of all experience, that we 
know, and can know, nothing of the hidden nature and essences 
of things — that facts in every department of inquiry, collected, 



364 



THE PROVINCE OF FAITH. 



observed, compared, form the basis and whole superstructure 
of our knowledge. This restless and prurient inquiry after 
the hidden essences of tilings, mysterious powers, occult 
qualities, as distinct from the facts themselves, was the pecu- 
liar folly of the ancient alchemists, and is now the antiquated 
relic of an exploded system, rejected by common sense, repu- 
diated by sound philosophy, and contradicted by the uniform 
and universal experience of man. Let us receive the great 
fact of God manifested in our nature, as we receive the fact of 
God manifested in creation. If we believe in God, let us be- 
lieve in Christ. Let us believe in Christ, even as we believe 
in God. " He that hath seen me," said the Saviour, " hath 
seen the Father. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the 
Father in me ; or else believe me for the very works' sake." 



XIX. 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



Psalm xc. 12. — "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our 
hearts unto wisdom.'' 



This Psalm is called " A prayer of Moses, the man of God." 
It was probably written on the borders of Canaan, when the 
Jews had just finished their long and dreary wanderings 
through that great and terrible wilderness, and were about to 
enter upon the inheritance so long promised to their fathers, 
and so long deferred, even till the heart w as sick, for the sins 
of their descendants. It would be difficult to conceive any cir- 
cumstances more affecting than those under which this Psalm 
was composed. The aged and venerable servant of God had 
outlived all his cotemporaries. He had seen them all pursued 
by that fierce threat of God which, the apostle informs us, is 
sharper than any two-edged sword, and falling in the wilder- 
ness beneath its unseen but terrible energy. One had been 
swallowed up with Korah and his companions ; another had 
been bitten by the fiery serpents, whose burning poison ran like 
molten lead through every vein, till every nerve was wrung 
with intensest agony, and every muscle was parched and with- 
ered by the he.it, and the waters of life were dried up at once 
in the system, or oozed slowly and lingeringly and painfully 
away. Another has dragged his wearied limbs over the tedious 
pilgrimage through that trackless desert, still cheering himself 
with the thought of Canaan and the vain hope that the Al- 
mighty w r ould relent; until, at last, flesh and heart have failed 
together, and the delusive hope on which he had so long leaned 



366 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



is gone, and he sinks down, exhausted and desperate, npon the 
sands of the hot desert. 

And where is she, who had hung upon his arm that fearful 
night when they were thrust out from Egypt; who pressed still 
closer to his side, as alarm and danger threatened, and gazed 
so wishfully upon his manly face, to reassure her trembling 
spirit? Ah! who so fit to minister in his last agony, and by 
the gentlest consolations soothe his departed spirit, as she who 
was the cherished object of his earliest and tenderest affections ? 
But long ere this her feeble frame had sunk exhausted beneath 
the labors and privations of their pilgrimage; and the mighty 
host, hardened by perpetual scenes of distress, and rendered 
intensely selfish by the consciousness of danger, to which they 
were perpetually exposed, had swept on regardless of her 
groans and dying. Thus it was that, one by one, they had all 
fallen in the wilderness, hewn down by the unseen but terrible 
sword of the Lord, until of all that mighty host who had marched 
out of Egypt, in the vigor of health and the pride of triumph, 
and had lifted up their voices to murmur against the Lord in 
the wilderness, there was none remaining; and the venerated 
leader and legislator of the Jews, in the decline of life, bereft 
of all the companions of his youth, gazed around him in deso- 
late loneliness of heart, and stood amidst the tribes of Israel 
as the aged and solitary oak, leafless and branchless, and almost 
lifeless, amidst the strewed and shattered forest which the 
tempest has uprooted in its fury. 

It was under circumstances such as these that the afflicted 
servant of the Lord composed the affecting and touching Psalm 
of which our text forms a part. It is a pathetic lamentation 
over the shortness of human life, and a prayer for grace or 
wisdom to improve it to the best advantage. He contrasts 
with the shortness of human life the eternity of God's exist- 
ence. He leads us away from the contemplation of our short 
and transitory existence here, into the depths of that unfathom- 
able and mysterious eternity which is the dwelling-place of 
God, whose ever-rolling years move on unceasingly, without 
beginning and without an end, reaching back immeasurably 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



'507 



beyond the creation of these heavens and this earth, and 
stretching forward far beyond the period when the earth shall 
be dissolved by fire and the heavens shall be rolled together ns 
a scroll, and all the magnificence and all the glory of this ma- 
terial creation shall disappear forever. 

How humbling, and yet how salutary, is the contrast thus 
presented between the duration of a day on earth, and the 
long, long lapse of those revolving ages which measure out the 
immeasurable periods of eternity, And even when we gaze 
upon the scenes around us, how deep and solemn is the im- 
pression of the brevity of life. The sun, which day by day 
awakens us into new life, and pours over all around the efful- 
gence of his glory, has rolled on for centuries as he does now, 
and has seen a thousand generations rising and flourishing for 
a season in his beams, and then sinking down into the darkness 
of the tomb. The green fields over which we sported in the 
playfulness of infancy, while life was still a blessing, and to 
breathe the fresh air and enj oy the cle&r sunshine was to be 
supremely happy, even these continue still unchanged, clothed 
in the same verdure, wearing the same cheerful smile, and 
stirring up in youthful minds the same ardent hopes, which 
leap forward unconsciously into the coming year, with the joy- 
ful anticipation of health and happiness. But where are they, 
the companions of our childhood and earliest youth, who loved 
to gaze along with us on all that is beautiful and majestic in 
the scenes around us, and whose elastic spirits bounded forward 
with all the freedom and confidence of unsuspecting youth to 
the enjoyments of coming years? For them no sun is bright, 
and no fields are beautiful ; no ray of light breaks in upon the 
darkness of their last lonely dwelling-place ; and the green 
grass waves in rank luxuriance unnoticed and unfelt over their 
silent and solitary abode. Even those frail habitations which 
man hath erected here, as the abode of his temporary residence, 
and which shall soon crumble into the dust, even they outlast 
our dying generation. The home of our childhood still remains ; 
but where are they who made that home so happy, who gath- 
ered around the same cheerful hearth, knelt at the same family 



363 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



altar, and held high and blessed communion with us about that 
world of spirits to which they have now departed? That ven- 
erable form, which led our thoughts in prayer, has loug since 
mouldered in the grave. The maternal tenderness which made 
our home a paradise, and the name of Mother, the sweetest, 
dearest, holiest on earth, is gone forever. The loud laugh rings 
in those well-known halls but to mock us in our agony. It is 
not the boyish merriment of the brother that we lost. That 
light footstep is scarcely heard as it falls in its gentle graceful- 
ness upon the threshold. But it is not of the sister we loved. 
Our fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live 
forever ? 

Let ns dwell, my brethren, let us often d.well upon the memory 
of the dead. "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord ;" 
and ever blessed and ever sacred be their memories. Holy, 
holy, holy, far above all earthly feelings, is that fond remem- 
brance which lingers around the graves of the departed, which 
cherishes the recollection of their virtues, which dwells upon 
their bright example, and longs to be prepared for their society 
above. It exalts at once, and purifies our nature; it raises us 
above the world to hold communion with the skies, and forms 
a new link in that chain of love which binds earth to heaven, 
and binds the destinies of man to the throne of God. There 
are many of us here who have more beloved friends in heaven 
than on earth. And what a thought it is that they are now 
angels of light around the throne of God — ministering spirits 
to us who believe- — to be the object of an angel's sympathy, 
an angel's love ! ! ! Now call not this the ravings of enthusi- 
asm ; it is the sober truth of God. In the coldness and hard- 
ness of a proud scepticism, call not that a too transcendent 
vision, which paints the dead on earth revived in heaven. It 
is one of those glimpses which are sometimes given us in the 
Bible, of the unseen and eternal world. It is one of those 
beams from that unutterable and unapproachable glory which 
sometimes penetrate these dark and heavy clouds that over- 
hang our existence here, flash across our pathway on earth, and 
startle us by the very magnificence of their revelations. 



HOW LIFE 18 TO BE IMPROVED. 



3C9 



Now, although there is no truth which we are more prone 
to forget, there is noue more importunately pressed upon our 
attention in the word of God, than the shortness of our lives. 
It is clothed in every variety of imagery which could strike 
the fancy or afiect the heart of man. It is a vapor which dis- 
appears as soon as it is seen, a cloud which rises in a summers 
sky, and suddenly vanishes away. It is like a cale that is told, 
passing a few short hours merrily away, and then forgotten 
forever. Even the frailest of those fragile things which we 
employ as the emblems of our mortality often survive us. The 
flower still blooms to remind us of the hand which planted it 
and the gentle heart which nurtured it with a sister's love. 
But she, the sweetest, the dearest, the loveliest of all, the 
flower of her family, is gone! The long grass waves in sum- 
mer still above the head whose glossy ringlets were tossed in 
girlish merriment as she ran to welcome and embrace us. It 
is like the grass which waves luxuriantly over the field in the 
morning, hut has fallen beneath the scythe of the mower be- 
fore the night comes on. It is like the flower which blooms 
in the garden, and receives the admiration of each transient 
visitor, but is withered by the first hot blast that passes over it. 

It is impossible for any of us, who have seen much of the 
afflictions of human life, not to realize the justice of these 
touching representations, and feel, as we read them, a thou- 
sand recollections rushing unbidden into the mind., and ad ding- 
melancholy confirmation of their truth. And at such a time, 
perhaps, there are few of us who do not love to meditate, in a 
kind of poetic reverie, on the shortness and uncertainty of 
mnn's condition here ; and while we enjoy the luxury of such 
a soft and pleasing sentimentalism, we almost think that we 
are ready to leave this world of sorrow, and go to that abode 
of peace, where our friends have gone before us; to lie down 
in that long repose where " the wicked cease from troubling and 
the weary are at rest." But it is greatly to be feared that 
with many, especially amongst the more refined and cultivated 
classes of society, this fine sensibility is mistaken for religious 
feeling, and constitutes indeed all the religion they possess. 
16* 



370 HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 

They weep and sigh, and are most tenderly pathetic, in view 
of man's mortality, but soon forget it all, and no real, perma- 
nent impression has been made upon their character and life. 
Now this is not the improvement which we should make of the 
shortness of our lives. We should not treat the solemn reali- 
ties of human life as we do the fictions of a poet or a novelist. 
We should not merely weep and sentimentalize about them, 
but we should take them up- as solemn and practical truths, in 
which we have a deep and eternal interest ; and if we thus con- 
sider them, then indeed may we learn lessons of the deepest 
and most precious wisdom. 

But, observe, if we would learn this wisdom, it is to be done 
by application. The psalmist prays, "So teach us to number 
our clays, that we may apply oar hearts unto wisdom.'' All 
wisdom lies beneath the surface. It is a hidden treasure for 
which we must dig, if we would obtain it. It is not a few idle 
wishes, nor a few feeble efforts, which will master that wisdom 
that cometh from above. There must be deep, close, intense 
and continued application. There must be a striving to enter 
the kingdom of heaven. There must be an agonizing after 
those blessings which are offered in the Gospel. The great 
and solemn truths of God's Word, and the awful realities of 
eternity, must be treasured up in the memory, and dwelt upon 
in our reflections, and urged home by repeated efforts upon the 
heart and the conscience, even as the aspiring student pores 
over some massy volume, where he knows are laid up all the 
treasures of ancient wisdom, or some knotty problem which 
lies in the pathway of science, and whose solution leads on to 
a thousand unknown truths. Plow does he struggle with the 
obstacles in his way, and summon all his powers to carry on 
the contest! Though often foiled, he never despairs; he never 
doubts the existence of the wisdom he has not yet been able to 
discover ; but returns repeatedly to the investigation, till at 
last his difficulties vanish, and his efforts are crowned with com- 
plete success. Even thus must the student of heavenly wis- 
dom meditate by day and by night on the great truths of the 
Gospel, the short duration of his existence here, and the cer- 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



37] 



tainty of that coming retribution which awaits us all hereafter. 
But with all his efforts must be united prayer to God, fervent 
and unceasing prayer, still following the example of the 
psalmist in his prayer for Divine teaching. 

Prayer without effort, and effort without prayer, are equally 
unavailing. The first neglects the agency of man, the last the 
agency of God. The first makes man a machine, incapable of 
action or feeling ; the last endows him with powers which he 
does not possess, and attributes to him a wisdom which dwell- 
eth only with God. Let us always pray, my brethren, as if all 
depended on prayer ; and let us labor, as if all depended on 
our efforts. And let us cease to wonder that the boat which is 
propelled by only a single oar, does riot glide smoothly and 
easily over the water, but is swept away by every current, and 
whirled in every eddy. If we would rightly improve the 
shortness and uncertainty of our lives, let us seriously and 
solemnly reflect upon the lessons of our text. 

I. That we are not at our own disposal, but in the hand of a 
Sovereign and Almighty God. This is a truth that is admitted 
by all in language, but utterly renounced in all the practical 
affairs of life. All the schemes and. plans of worldly men are 
formed and pursued upon the deliberate assumption of the 
fact that our lives are our own, and that we may employ them 
according to our pleasure. They are preserved and sustained, 
we suppose, by the laws of nature, and hence we learn to at- 
tribute to them something of the certainty and stability which 
we observe in the operation of those laws. Sinners fear no 
change. They are saying, To-morrow shall be as this day 
and much more abundant. They look forward far into the 
future. Fancy spreads its gayest coloring over the distant 
scene, and hope leaps forward to the anticipated happiness. 
But in all this there is no thought of God, there is no thought 
of death, there is no dream about eternity. And thus is the 
High and Holy One, in whose hand is our life, and from whom 
all our blessings flow, dispossessed of his rightful authority 
over our hearts and lives. We erect an idol in his place, and 
yield to it the supremacy over our affections, and never dream 



372 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



that it shall not be eternal, until God, in his wrath or his 
mercy, casts it down from the pedestal of its worship, and 
mingles it with the dust of the earth. We mourn for a time 
in brokenness of heart, as did the one of old, who said, "Ye 
have taken away our gods, and what shall we do ? " But hu- 
man ingenuity or human folly soon discovers a new resource, 
and another idol is consecrated, with other rites, and enthroned 
with undiminished power over our souls. And it is only when 
idol after idol has been torn away that we learn how uncertain 
is human life, and how little human happiness depends on hu- 
man foresight or human wisdom. 

It is this proud feeling of independence which emboldens 
men in their rebellion against God. Did we all feel that there 
is an unseen Almighty hand which sustains us at all times, an 
all-pervading Presence following us, surrounding us, enclosing 
us on all sides, dealing out to us every breath, and able by a 
single volition to terminate our lives, what solemnity would 
this diffuse around us ! How humbly, how softly, how fear- 
fully would we walk before the Lord ! The antediluvians were 
secure in the enjoyment of life, and looked forward to hundreds 
of years of undisturbed indulgence, until the day when Noah 
entered the ark, and the deluge burst upon and swept them 
away. The inhabitants of Sodom were secure, even while Lot 
was fleeing from that guilty city to avoid the coming indigna- 
tion; and many a mind was then pressing forward into the 
future, and contemplating large schemes of future wealth, 
or pleasure, or applause. And on that fearful night when 
the angel of the Lord passed through the land of Egypt, and 
slew all the first-born, from the king upon his throne to the 
lowest peasant in his cottage, while the sound of wailing was 
heard at one extremity of Egypt, the voice of merriment was 
resounding throughout the other; and mothers clasped their first- 
born infants securely to their bosoms, and fathers gazed with 
unsuspecting pride upon the manly form and features of their 
sons just ripening into manhood. How vain were their ex- 
pectations ! And how often have we beheld ourselves the 
young man cut down in the flower of his youth, and the man 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



373 



of restless activity or towering ambition, met in 1 lie pride of 
his manhood and in the midst of his career, and hewn down 
by the keen sword of the invisible destroyer. Let us remem- 
ber, then, that the tenure of our lives is very uncertain, that 
they depend entirely on the will of another. And since these 
lives are bestowed at first by his goodness, and continued by 
his mercy, let us seek to propitiate his favor, let us endeavor 
to do his will, let us prepare to meet his final judgment. 

II. Let us remember that in this short life we have a great 
work to do. It is this which stamps a solemn value upon hu- 
man life, and communicates to every moment of our existence 
a portion of that vast and awful interest which belongs to 
eternity. Every moment of our being has an intimate con- 
nection with every other, from the first dawn of reason and 
moral agency, to the remotest period of that existence which 
has no limits beyond the grave. Our lives are made up of 
moments, and each as it passes away bequeaths to that which 
follows a portion of its own character. Hence we see — since 
the great business of life is to prepare for eternity— -how im- 
portant it is that every moment of our time should be dili- 
gently improved. For the work which we have to do is vast 
and important ; important as the salvation of the soul, and 
vast as all those interests which can be comprised in eternity. 
This is our only probation; and all that we can ever do for 
ourselves, all that we can do for others, all that we can do for 
the cause of our blessed Saviour, must be done soon, or left 
undone forever. What immense concerns are crowded in upon 
a few short, fleeting hours. And this short space may be much 
shorter than we suppose. You may be forming plans for years, 
but this night your soul may be required of you. 

The great business of life, all the vast concerns of eternity, 
may be compressed into a single moment, and that moment 
full of distraction and horror. Oh, how many thoughts of 
horror rush in upon the bosom of a dying sinner ! There is 
the memory of the warnings he has received and despised, the 
invitations he has heard and rejected, the privileges he has en- 
joyed and misimproved, the time he has possessed and lost, the 



374 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



Spirit he has grieved repeatedly away, the vows and covenants 
he has made and broken, the hopes which are now turned into 
despair, the life which is now darkening into death, and the of- 
fered heaven, now soon to be exchanged for a hell of deepest 
and bitterest agony! Think not that life is too long for the 
business allotted to it, or that any part may be devoted to folly 
or to sin. Look within you, aud see how much employment 
you may find there ; what passions to subdue, what pride to 
mortify, what evil desires to quell, what unbelief to overcome. 
Look above you to the example of our Divine Redeemer, who 
always went about doing good, and ask how much he expects 
you to do in imitation of his example. Look around you on 
the poor, on the miserable, on the ignorant, on the sinful: is 
there no sorrow which you can relieve, no ignorance you can 
instruct, no sin you can rebuke ? Look back on your past life : 
is there nothing to repent of and to amend? Look forward 
to your future path: is there no danger to alarm your fears, 
no enemy to oppose your progress, no temptations to seduce 
your passions ? Are you altogether prepared, with the whole 
armor of God, for the contest? Then your deliverance is near 
at hand, and it becomes you to dwell upon that world of glory 
to which you are so near. 

Look away beyond the scenes which are now around you ; 
think of the glory yet to be revealed, of the crown which is 1o 
sparkle on your brow, of the joy which is to flow in full tide 
over your exalted spirit, of the presence of God and all the 
glories of the upper sanctuary ; and then think whether every 
moment is not well employed, and eveiy faculty most wisely 
exerted, when engaged in the acquisition of a reward so rich 
and so unmerited. That was a wise resolution formed by one 
of the greatest and holiest men of modern times, when he re- 
solved that he " would live with all his might.' 5 The expres- 
sion is singular, but deeply significant. It means to fulfil the 
great purpose of our existence, that no power shall lie dor- 
mant, no moment be unimproved, no duty neglected, no op- 
portunity lost. If you would live to any purpose, you must 
live with all your might; y^ou must gird on the whole armor 



T10TV LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



375 



of the Gospel, and endure hardness as a good soldier of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. Let your night be only a season of repose 
from the labors of the day ; and when the morning wakes you 
from your slumbers, let it only rouse you to other duties and 
other efforts. A heathen philosopher once lamented that he 
had lost a day when he had conferred no favor on any of his 
friends. And be assured that day is lost, lost never to be re- 
gnined, in which you make no progress towards heaven, resist 
no wrong propensity and strengthen no good one, do nothing 
for the glory of God. for the welfare of others, your own 
spiritual improvement. The capacities which God has given 
you are great, and worthy of a noble object. The work he 
has placed before you is exalted, and suited to -the faculties of 
your nature. The reward he has promised is large. The ac- 
count he will demand is strict and precise. The judgment he 
has appointed is near at hand. The time is short. Behold, 
the Judge is at the door ! 

III. Let us learn from the shortness of life the vanity of all 
worldly passions. Behold that splendid procession as they 
sweep along, in martial triumph over the streets of the seven- 
hilled city, from the gates to the capitol. The streets are 
strewed with flowers, and the altars smoke with incense ; and 
there, arrayed in purple, embroidered with gold, a crown of 
laurel on his head, a sceptre in his hand, and drawn in a gilded 
chariot by four milk-white horses, stands the object of this 
gorgeous ceremony. Before him he hears the proud swell of 
triumphant music; and as he is charioted along the streets of 
the imperial city, surrounded by captive kings, and the rich 
spoils of empires, and cheered by the loud acclamations of the 
populace, and the still louder greetings of the army who par- 
take alike in the victory and the triumph, you may see the 
flush of triumph on his cheek and the swell of exulting rapture 
as it heaves his manly bosom. But amidst all this imposing 
and exalting scene there is one, who sits close at his side, and 
whispers gently in his ear; and that glow lias faded from his 
cheek, and that flush has passed away from his brow, and 
that bright eye is fixed in grave and melancholy musing. 



876 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



And what did he whisper in his ear ? Did he remind him of 
the ruin he had wrought, of the sacked cities and desolated 
fields, of the ruined families, the bereaved widows and orphan 
children which his success had made, and tell him, in the 
honesty of truth, that the laurel on his brow was steeped in 
blood and scalding tears, and ill befitted the brow that wore it ? 
Xo. He told him that he was a man, and reminded him of the 
mutability of human affairs, and the sad reverses of human 
fortune. He bade him remember his mortality, and pointed 
forward to that day when the glories of the world should have 
passed away, and victor and vanquished should lie down to- 
gether in the grave, and mingle with the dust from which they 
sprang. And now the conqueror is forgotten in the man, and 
the recollection of his mortality has quelled his rising spirit, 
and subdued the pride and ambition which success and ad- 
miration had too certainly aroused. He surely cannot agitate 
his mind with schemes of wild ambition who seriously reflects 
how short would be the triumph of his pride, and how certain 
and how dreadful its termination. 

Let us remember that we are soon to die, and let this 
moderate our desires for wealth and worldly comforts, as well 
as for worldly distinction. We could not be over anxious to 
make provision for the flesh, to gratify the lusts thereof, if we 
felt that all these things would be taken from us, and we our- 
selves called to judgment. It w T ould te:ich us especially to lay 
aside all wrath and malice and evil -speaking. How can we 
hate the man who is so soon to lie with us in the silent grave, 
and stand with us before the tribunal of Justice ? There is no 
eloquence like the eloquence of the grave; and the lessons 
which it teaches are as full of wisdom as of power. Go stand 
by the tomb of the great, and learn the vanity of earthly 
greatness. Visit the grave of the humble and obscure, and 
wonder at those petty distinctions in society which all termi- 
nate at death. Stand by the grave of a beloved friend, and ask 
if we have never wounded his feelings by unkindness, or mis- 
led his confidence by an ungodly example, and resolve that, 
since the living must soon be among the dead, we will more 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. ;; TT 

faithfully perform every fluty that devolves upon us; that our 
consciences may be void of offence, and our affections un- 
mingled with regret, when we gaze upon their sepulchres or 
recall their memories. A ad to stand by the grave of an enemy, 
is to feel the folly of all human animosities. The bitterest and 
deadliest foes have been softened by such a spectacle, and even 
wept to think that they could ever hate the poor, weak being 
sleeping silently in the grave before them. Such would be our 
feeling if we seriously reflected that all men are mortal as well 
as ourselves. It would produce a brotherhood of feeling to- 
wards all around us, and the bitterest hatred would soften into 
compassion and love, when we remembered our common origin, 
our common misfortunes, and our common destiny. 

TV. Let us learn from the shortness of life to live for eternity. 
This world is not worth living for. We look not at the things 
which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the 
things which are seen are temporal ; but the things which are 
not seen are eternal. We boast of our superiority to the brutes 
that perish, but many live very much like them. They eat, 
drink, build houses, and seek to gratify the senses, and leave 
out of view their future destiny. The great mass of mankind 
live with no thought of God or immortality, of heaven or hell, 
and of those unseen realities which lie around them on every 
side, and fill up the eternity which is just before them. Look- 
ing at the things which are seen and temporal, men extend 
their knowledge in every direction, and their dominion over 
nature ; but every such extension of knowledge and dominion, 
without the Gospel, only makes the world worse and man 
more wretched. The only remedy is to look forward to the 
future, and to prepare for eternity. 

Things which are seen are temporal, transitory, and ^vanes- 
cent. Man belongs to two worlds ; one visible, tangible, pal- 
pable to all the senses, the other spiritual and eternal. By the 
body he is allied to the grass, to the flowers, to the forest, the 
animals, the very dust beneath his feet. By the soul he is 
allied to God and angels. God only and the soul are perma- 
nent and enduring. The grass withers, the flower fades, the 



378 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



forest dies. Man builds houses, and they crumble ; rears 
families, and they perish. Great cities and empires live in 
ruins as memorials of decay. The very names of their builders 
and founders have perished. Man may build for himself the 
lofty mausoleum, deep-grave his name in marble or in brass, 
lift the graceful shaft till it pierces the sky, and place his statue 
on the summit. Yet shall his name perish from the memory 
of men, and the marble crumble as surely as his body crumbles 
in the dust. Nay, all the works of man's prowess and genius, 
the mountains and oceans, and the great-globe itself, shall be 
dissolved, the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and the 
very heavens shall be rorled together as a scroll, and pass 
away, "But thou, O Lord, in the beginning hast laid the 
foundation of the earth ; and the heavens are the work of thy 
hand. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure ; and they all 
shall wax old as doth a garment ; and as a vesture shalt thou 
change them, and they shall be changed ; but thou art the 
same, and thy years shall have no end." 

Consider, then, the unutterable folly, the strange and mad 
insanity of looking only at things which are seen and tem- 
poral, to the neglect of unseen and eternal realities of God 
and eternity. Suppose you dwelt on some narrow, barren, ill- 
watered spot, in a wretched hovel, and knew you had a broad 
and imperial domain elsewhere, a rich inheritance, a princely 
estate, reserved especially for you, and secured by a title-deed, 
where perpetual spring reigned, with perennial gushing streams, 
and fruitful fields, and fragrant flowers. Suppose that one 
after another of your dearest kindred and friends had gone to 
that inheritance before you, and were waiting there to receive 
and welcome you. Suppose that, in departing, they had 
caught a glimpse of its glories, and spoken in raptures of 
them — had seen cherub forms inviting you to come, and heard 
cherub voices of welcome there. Suppose that in favored 
hours, when the air was clear and the sun was bright, you had 
yourself caught some glimpses of its spires and walls and 
mountain-tops, had inhaled stray breezes, and even drunk of the 
waters flowing from that land. Suppose that it lay just beyond 



HOW LIFE IS TO BE IMPROVED. 



a stream not far away, directly in your path, and that you 
might reach it to-morrow, and enter upon the full fruition of its 
blessedness and glory ; and yet you give all your thoughts, your 
pursuits, your time, your affections to that wretched hovel and 
barren spot in which you dwell. This would give but a faint 
delineation of the folly and madness of those who are neglecting 
things unseen and eternal, for those which are present and 
temporal — who are preferring earth to heaven, time to eternity, 
and the mere gratification of the senses to the grand realities 
of God and the soul. 



\ 



XX. 

DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 

Eccl. ix. 3. — "There is one event unto all." Ecgl. viii. 14. — "There is a 
vanity which is done upon the earth, and there be just men, unto whom 
it happeneth according to the work of the wicked: again there be wicked 
men to whom it happeneth according to the work of the righteous." 



These words were spoken by Solomon in tbe hour of his 
temptation and unbelief. How different his feelings when, en- 
lightened from on high, he could exclaim, " The path of the just 
is as the shining light, which shineth more and more nnto the 
perfect day ;•" and again, " Wisdom's ways are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and all her paths are peace ;" and again, " The fear of the 
Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the 
Holy is understanding;" and in the close of this very book, 
" Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter. Fear God and 
keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man." 
Yet when left in his own strength, to wrestle with the powers 
of darkness, and the corruptions of his own fallen nature, there 
was many an hour of bitter anguish, and this book of Ecclesi- 
astes is the perfect picture of just such a mind, perplexed, be- 
wildered, maddened even to desperation. "Therefore I hated 
life;" "yea, I hated all the labor I had taken under the sun." 
Again, " I went about to despair of all the labor which I took 
under the sun." He had gone to all the sources of worldly 
enjoyment, and found them broken cisterns, no living waters 
in them to slack the thirst of an immortal spirit. He tries 
the pleasures of sense and the pleasures of the understand- 
ing, and turns in disgust and satiety from both ; they are 
" all vanity." He turns to society for relief, and tries the 



DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIX? 



381 



friendship of man, but there finds only ingratitude and 
treachery; to the love of woman, and cries out in his agony, 
U I find bitterer than death" the fruits of such companion- 
ship. He turns to the world without, and seeks to forget 
himself in his sympathy with others, and everywhere in- 
justice, oppression, violence meet him; here he finds the same 
impenetrable darkness, chaotic confusion, unfathomable mys- 
tery of sin and suffering. "Moreover I saw under the sun the 
place of judgment, that wickedness was there." 41 1 beheld 
the tears of the oppressed, and they had no comforter, and on 
the side of their oppressors was power" And he cries it is 
better never to have been born, "than to have seen the evil 
work that is done under the sun." Forgetting the gentle wis- 
dom of his father David, whose feet had well-nigh slipped under 
the same temptations; forgetting that final judgment, where 
oppressors and oppressed shall stand together at the bar of 
God, and those retributions of eternity where all the wrongs 
of time shall be rectified ; he leaps impetuously to the fearful 
conclusion, that there is no divine order, no supreme law on 
earth, no virtue or vice, right or wrong; "that man hath no 
pre-eminence above the beast ;" that there is no better thing 
under. the sun, than to " eat, drink, and be merry." How doth 
God know? Is there knowledge in the Most High ? 

Now, why have we this record of a conflict so terrible, the 
picture of a soul so tossed by storms ? and why is this record 
placed amongst the inspired writings of the sacred Scriptures? 
Is it not for our instruction ? Because we have the same fallen 
nature, the same subtle tempter, and the same practical athe- 
ism, not so distinctly expressed, but vaguely felt, and tending 
practically to the same sad and terrible conclusion, which em- 
boldens men in sin, and hardens them in impenitence, and 
leads them to the conclusion — let us eat, drink, and be merry, 
for to-morrow we die. 

Xow. in opposition to all this, we have endeavored to show 
that there is a visible government of God, even here on earth 
— a government exercised over an apostate race, and a rebel 
world ; a holy law which reaches the proudest rebel, lays hold 



382 



DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIX? 



of every particle of body, and each wicked passion of the soul, 
and makes him his own tormentor. Every suffering is punish- 
ment for sin, and over this whole wide scene of sin and sorrow 
may we as distinctly see the hand of God inflicting punish- 
ment on sin, and hear the voice of God denouncing judgment 
on the sinner, as if sentence were written in letters of light 
over the sky, or announced audibly from heaven. We have 
referred to instances where sin the most flagrant was followed 
by punishment swift, sure, and terrible ; in which this truth is 
so clear and startling, that it cannot be denied or overlooked. 

We visited those dark abodes of wretchedness and crime, 
dark, damp cellars and dismal garrets, where the outcast popu- 
lation of our large cities are gathered nightly for pleasure or 
ghastly rest; where human beings of every age and sex are 
huddled promiscuously together, and without decency or sen>e 
of shame ; the very air reeks with pollution ; and as we gazed 
on that sweltering mass of physical disease and moral putre- 
faction, we turned away in loathing and horror, and exclaimed, 
" The way of the transgressor is hard." " Holy art thou, Lord 
God Almighty ; just and true are all thy ways, O King of 
saints !" We pointed to the crowded wards of some immense 
hospital, where friendless, homeless, houseless wanderers, vic- 
tims and slaves of sin, were welcomed by Christian love, with 
every human remedy that could alleviate their self-inflicted 
ruin, where each countenance of Avan despair, each shriek of de- 
lirious horror, each curse of blasphemy and hopeless cry for 
mercy, is but the voice of God's avenging justice, proclaiming 
the penalty of violated law. We spoke of the evils of intem- 
perance, with all its countless horrors; so gigantic in its pro- 
portions, that it overshadows all the land ; so universal, that 
there is not a family connection, however proud or pure, not a 
station so exalted or so hallowed, scarce a domestic circle so 
sacred that it has not penetrated, and made the noblest, 
brightest, dearest, best-loved — the father, son, brother — the 
orator, statesman, poet — victims of the fell destroyer. We 
spoke of war with its blood and carnage, havoc and devasta- 
tion, with its millions of men in Christian lands at this mo- 



DOES COD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 



383 



ment armed and trained for mutual butchery; its millions of 
treasure, wrung from the abundance of t he rich, and the penury 
of the poor, for this horrid service, and at least one half as 
much more destroyed in wanton fury; while the wail of the 
nation's anguish rises from ten thousand desolated homes, and 
gaunt famine follows in the track, and pestilence hovers in the 
air, and those the sword has spared *fall, amid keener agonies 
and longer tortures, beneath a deadlier and more inexorable 
foe. Xow, as we gaze upon these scenes of accumulated 
horror, remember sin has produced it all, and as human society 
moves on nearer and nearer to its destined consummation, and 
all the elements of good and evil gather to the last great con- 
flict and triumph of right, we can trace the gory footsteps of 
the great enemy of God and man as he stamps on the desolated 
earth, and feel his fiery breath as he kindles these demon 
passions. Were these evil passions all allayed, licentiousness, 
intemperance, and Avar abolished, the wretchedness would dis- 
appear. Those millions would be devoted to bless and not to 
curse ; to the glory of God and the good of man. The Gos- 
pel would be sent to every heathen nation; ships would be 
freighted with the message of salvation ; the church and 
school-house would spring up in every neighborhood ; every 
orphan and. widow would be clothed and educated; the land 
would be dotted with flourishing villages, quiet hamlets, peace- 
ful cottages ; and the whole emancipated earth would rejoice, 
like the garden of the Lord,, beneath the smile of the recon- 
ciled Father ; " The mountains would shout, and the little hills 
rejoice on every side." 

Let universal love reign, love to God and love to man, and 
heaven descends to earth ; let sin reign, and hell is already 
begun. 

What say you? Do you blame the holiness of God? Shall 
we not rather say that sin is exceeding sinful; that it is that 
loathsome, execrable, accursed thing God hates? Were it 
embodied before you to-day, in some form of horror, reeking 
with blood, revelling in murder, feasting on human misery, 
gloating over the desolation it had made, still insatiate, re- 



384 



DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 



morseless, whetting its glutted appetite for other victims, like 
hell and the grave, never saying, " It is enough," but prepar- 
ing for other generations, and for all coming time, for your 
children and your children's children, the same seductive arts 
of treachery and lies, to allure them into its foul embrace, and 
mock them in their misery — would you not rise together as 
one man, and say, Let us leave business, pleasure, home; let 
us renounce ease, comfort, gain; and go forth at once to exter- 
minate the monster, with his hellish brood, from the face of 
the earth which he has blackened and crushed by his ruthless 
tyranny? Then commence at once; expel him from thine 
own bosom, — 

" Rise, touched with, gratitude divine, 
Turn out his enemy and thine, 
Tli at soul-destroying monster, sin, 
And let the heavenly Stranger in. * 

But will he prove a Friend indeed ? 
He will : the very Friend you need ; 
The Friend of sinners — yes, 'tis He, 
With garments dyed on Calvary." 

But war is not by far the worst of human evils. It is often 
the bitter and terrible remedy for evils worse than itself — the 
surgeon's knife and cautery which extirpates the malady, 
and is always the symptom and result of inward desperate 
disease. " From whence come wars and fightings among you ? 
Come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your 
members?" Even in prosperous and peaceful times the fester- 
ing canker eats at the heart of society itself, and breaks out 
with greater or less malignity on the surface — in gibes, taunts, 
scorn, defiance, cold suspicion, in sly innuendo, in whispered 
slander, in open denunciation, in imperative will, brooking no 
opposition, tolerating no dissent from its opinions. Neighbor 
is separated from neighbor, friend from friend, brother from 
brother, sisters who have lain on each other's bosom, clasped 
in each other's arms, amidst the sweet dreams of innocence — 
their children the veriest foes. Sin enters the domestic circle, 



DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 



and mark its havoc there — anger between husband and wife, 
the hasty remark, the quick, fiery reply, mutual exasperation, 
moody silence, smouldering fires covered, not quenched. The 
children catch the spirit and follow the example. Rebellion 
against God becomes filial disobedience; order, subordination, 
and love are gone. They are allies against all the world, and 
enemies to each other. Recklessness follows indifference; 
honorable names are tarnished ; patrimonial estates are wasted. 

The nearer we approach the seat of all this evil, the deeper 
we penetrate into the mysteries of the human heart, the mi- 
nuter our scrutiny into the working of the machinery within, 
the clearer are the evidences of the. awful holiness of God in 
inflicting punishment on sin. There is not a fibre of the body 
he cannot reach by his power ; not a passion of the soul he can- 
not make the instrument of his righteous vengeance. There is 
not an evil passion which is not its own avenger ; not a right 
affection which is not its own sweet, abundant, delicious reward. 
As the adder in its fury strikes its fangs into its own body, 
and swells and bursts and dies with the poison it nourished ; 
so there is not an evil passion but inflicts its first vengeance 
upon the bosom that nourished it. The first distillation of 
bitterness is shed in the heart itself. That glare of hatred and 
defiance answered back, kindles new hatred. We speak not of 
violence and the injury it may produce, nor of regrets for the 
past or consequences in the future ; but of that inherent bitter- 
ness which belongs to every such feeling. Of two men who 
hate each other, there is no question that he who hates 
most bitterly is most miserable ; while each affection is not only 
a blessing to others, but to itself. Each wish of good, before 
reaching its object, has already shed its distillation of joy over 
your own soul. Each look or act of gentle sympathy or be- 
nevolence has awakened a correspondent feeling in another, 
and, reflected, sheds a sunny radiance over your own soul; 
and in this interchange of kindness, he who is first and kind- 
est in his love is most happy. In this sense, too, is it more 
blessed to give than to receive. How much of heaven is there 
in mutual regard ; of hell in mutual detestation ! 
17 



3S6 DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 



Could there be a more authoritative or more terrible decla- 
ration of God's abhorrence of sin, and determination to punish 
it, than when he thus follows it into the very soul, and makes 
it inflict punishment on itself? But it does not terminate 
here. The billows toss long after the storm subsides. The 
dark passions leave their shadows on the soul, send their re- 
morse through life. To the bad man and the good, nothing 
is the same. No scene in nature is the same to them. Their 
enjoyment in the relations of life, family, friends, wife, chil- 
dren, of their very food, is different. "The candle of the 
Lord shineth upon the tabernacles of the righteous." 

The curse of God resteth on the wicked. In the light that 
shines from heaven, all things assume a new aspect, are sweeter, 
nobler, holier, more sacred. For sin is the disease of the soul ; 
holiness is its life and health. The nameless joy of the very 
young, the buoyancy of the convalescent, what are they ? 
Every thing to them overflows with joy. We cannot analyze 
it. Every sense, every faculty, every gland, sends its own dis- 
tillation of enjoyment. So to the good man, all, all is sweeter; 
but chiefly because conscience is at peace with God. This in- 
dwelling conscience is the most direct and terrible evidence of 
God's primitive government. Here, God speaks directly to the 
man's inmost soul ; tells him that suffering is punishment of 
sin, and that "it is right;" the law within testifies to the Law- 
giver above. It speaks in the name of God and with the au- 
thority of God. It has been well called the vicegerent of 
God ; it tells him of the justice of God, and points to the bar 
of God. We speak not for those who deny or have stifled 
conscience. If so, your misfortune is great ; your sin is great. 
Oh, cherish conscience. It is the great fact of our being. It 
must be supreme over all the other faculties. Man may stifle, 
crush it ; but it will rise again. It may be betrayed by treach- 
ery, deceived by falsehood, lulled by opiates, bewildered by 
sophistry. It is not destroyed. As the lion, so is conscience. 
The lion roars ; conscience speaks ; and every faculty feels its 
power. Even those who defy it must at last feel its power. 

How good is God to endow us with a conscience — the in- 



DOES GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN? 



387 



terpreter of his law; the representative of his presence; fol- 
lowing us from childhood on ; warning, whispering, rebuking, 
commanding us. 

How awful, too ! a Sinai in each soul ; a voice of God ; a 
tribunal of God ; and in the last day the verdict will be found 
in conscience. Oh, cherish it; listen to its lowest whispers ; 
have it sprinkled with the blood of Christ ; have it enlight- 
ened by the word of God ; have it quick and sensitive to every 
call of duty. 

[To the foregoing discourse, which was evidently left unfinished, we sub- 
join the following strikingly pertinent passage from another manuscript. — 
Ed.] 

We have seen, in Peter, how far a man may go in sin and 
yet be saved. We see, in Judas, how far a man may go in 
religion and yet be lost. In the one case, we see how near a 
man may come to the gates of heaven, and yet be cast down 
to hell ; in the other, how far one may wander from God, how 
near to the verge of perdition, and yet be plucked as a brand 
from everlasting burning. In Peter, we see how a single in- 
firmity, self-confidence, may leave the soul an easy prey to the 
powers of darkness, lead to sins which we shudder to contem- 
plate, and cast a shadow over life. In Judas, we see how r a 
single absorbing passion, silently, perhaps unconsciously, in- 
dulged for years, may subordinate at last all the powers of the 
soul, and lead to the basest treachery, the blackest ingratitude, 
the most atrocious crimes — to irretrievable ruin, to madness, 
suicide, eternal death. In Peter, we seethe nature of true re- 
pentance, tears of genuine sorrow for sin flowing from a heart 
melted by the love of the Redeemer, and bowed in meek hu- 
mility, in conscious unworthiness, and adoring wonder, in the 
presence of that abused and yet forgiving love. He had been 
"forgiven much, therefore he loved much." In Judas, we see 
the sorrow of the world which worketh death, the horrors of 
remorse, the terrors of a guilty conscience, the anguish of a 
soul wrapt in the blackness of despair, and hardened by a 
sense of sin unpardoned and divine justice unappeased. In 



388 



DOES 



GOD ALWAYS PUNISH SIN ? 



the one, we see the sweetness of those penitential tears, the 
joys of pardoned sin, and the assured sense of reconciliation 
with God ; the bounding alacrity, conscious strength, ex- 
ulting courage, with which man goes forth to toils and dan- 
gers. The terror and dismay, the self-abhorrence and detesta- 
tion, the lurid light flashing in upon the soul, the settled 
gloom, the horror of deep darkness that shrouds it, the deli- 
rious anguish wildly hurrying it on to the last extremity of 
guilt, the traitor's doom, and the traitor's damnation, what 
tongue can tell ? 



XXI. 



THE RELIGION OF THE BIBLE NOT OPPOSED TO BEASON. 



Isaiah i. 18. — " Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord." See 
1 Sam. xii. 7. Acts xvii. 2, 24, 25. Bom. xii. 1. 



On each side of the arched gateway that leads to some 
noble castle, or opens upon some ancient city, may often he 
seen, crouching as if in mutual hostility and defiance, the grim 
and threatening figures of two fierce beasts of prey. Now, we 
have often figured to ourselves the entrance to the path of 
truth as thus beset, on either side, by horrid monsters ; and 
happy is that man who so wisely selects his middle patli as 
to pass unharmed by either. The gate of eternal life is 
strait ; and there sits gloomy superstition, darkly bidding 
away from her all the enjoyments of life and spreading her 
funeral pall over all earthly objects ; and there, on the other 
side, haughty scepticism, drawing a veil of blackness over all our 
brightest expectations, blotting out the very sun from the 
heaven of our hopes. Religion is a reasonable service ; yet 
there sits fierce fanaticism, with fire and faggot, to forbid the 
exercise of reason ; and there sits a fashionable false philosophy, 
with an altar for her worship, and© requiring all to bow down 
to her as a goddess. There, too, is stupid ignorance depre- 
ciating all reasoning, and limiting all human knowledge and 
inquiry to the narrow boundaries of its own acquirements. 
And there an imaginary learning, a science falsely so called, 
flippant, self-coneeited, exaggerates her exploits beyond all 
truth, and claims the whole universe as the field of her bold 
and boundless conquests. It will be at once our duty, wis- 



390 



THE RELIGION OE THE BIBLE 



dom, and happiness, to pursue our own calm and quiet 
path, equally removed from these opposing errors ; and 
while we gratefully receive, diligently improve, and consci- 
entiously exercise the reason God has given us, let us remem- 
ber its office, its real limits, and appropriate exercise. Let us 
consider, 

1st. The duty of exercising and cultivating our reason ; and, 
2d. Its extent, its limits, and its office. 

I. To those in whose vocabulary piety and absurdity are 
convertible terms — who have always considered reason and 
religion as antagonist powers, arraved in deadlv conflict 
against each other — whose motto is, " that devotion ends 
where inquiry begins " — it may sound like some strange an- 
nouncement when we say, that of all the books in the world 
the Bible most frequently inculcates, most peremptorily com- 
mands, the exercise of reason. We enter here into no minute 
analysis of the human mind, no nice and metaphysical distinc- 
tions between the various faculties of our intellectual nature. 
Every man knows he is a complex being — a body and a soul. 
jSTow, by reason in its largest sense, we mean all that distin- 
guishes man from the animals around him — his whole intellect, 
as distinguished from his physical powers — the living princi- 
ple within him that thinks, feels, loves and hates, hopes and 
fears, observes and judges, compares, reasons, and decides — that 
can know God and love him, understand his will and obey it ; 
and, according to its obedience or disobedience, can measure 
out to itself or others approbation or censure. 

We pause not to answer technical objections that might be 
urged. We are satisfied that this wide acceptation of the 
term reason is justified, not only by the language of familiar 
conversation, but by the usage of the best writers in our 
tongue, and that in the earlier stages of all language, before 
the invention of our nicer distinctions, it must have been uni- 
versally prevalent. And now, returning to our first remark, 
we say that the Bible not only allows, but encourages ; not 
only encourages, but commands, the exercise of our rational 
powers. Nay, this is the principal and avowed design of the 



NOT OPPOSED TO REASON. 



391 



Bible; and if stricken from its pages, little would be left be- 
hind to recall man to a sense of the superiority and dignity 
of his rational and immortal powers ; to point out their origin, 
their nature, their exalted destiny.; to heal the diseases that 
enfeeble and endanger, knock off the shackles that fetter, and 
call forth all their energies to their noblest exercise and larg- 
est development. What new and untrodden fields of thought 
does it open to our aspiring powers, high as heaven, boundless 
as infinity ; and how does it allure us to the lofty contempla- 
tion, by all that could stimulate the curiosity or arouse the 
imagination, and strain to their utmost all the capacities of 
thought and feeling ! By every method does it aim to arouse 
us to the exercise of our reason, by precept, by example, by 
expostulation. If the appetites and passions are to be con- 
trolled, it is that the mind may be free for its own high em- 
ployments. If the flesh is to be mortified, it is that the spirit 
may breathe a new life. If the outer man is to be subjugated, 
it is that the inner man, the nobler and immortal part, may 
walk forth rejoicing in the freedom of its untrammeled 
powers. The great and ever-recurring charge against sinners 
is that, immersed in sensuality, absorbed in what is visible and 
sensible, all the higher attributes and powers of their nature 
are palsied; they have no relish for rational pleasures, no 
capacity for their appropriate employment. It is charged 
against the ungodly, that " he doth not regard the works of 
the Lord, nor consider the operations of his hand ;" and in the 
third verse of this chapter, the complaint against the Jews is, 
" Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider ;" and then 
comes the invitation of our text, " Come, and let us reason to- 
gether." Rouse up from y our stupid lethargy ; lay aside for 
a moment your sensuality, your frivolity, your self-indulgence ; 
let reason act her part, let your immortal nature, so long- 
abused, enslaved, debased, at length speak out ; and let reli- 
gion then be derided as a visionary thing, if the revelation 
from within answer not to the revelation from without, if rea- 
son and conscience speak and add not confirmation strong to 
the claims of God on your affection and obedience. The 



392 



THE RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 



prophet Samuel, 1 Samuel xii. 7, cries out to the rebel 
Jews, "Stand still that I may reason with you "before the 
Lord." 

Indeed, it is remarkable how exclusively all the appeals of 
the Bible are directed to the higher powers of our nature. 
The prophets demonstrated by conclusive reasoning the folly 
of the idolatry and rebellion of the Jews. St. Paul reasoned 
with the Jews at a single place, three Sabbath days, from their 
Scriptures, proving that Jesus was the Christ. Acts xvii. 2. 
It was "when he reasoned of "temperance, righteousness, and 
judgment to come," that Felix trembled. Nay, this we are 
told was his usual manner, and his Epistle to the Romans still 
exists, an unrivaled monument of logical skill and pow T er, 
where every thought and sentence, and almost word, is knit 
together in strong and compact order, like some Macedonian 
phalanx, firm, impenetrable, shield locked in shield, shoulder 
braced against shoulder. And have you not observed how 
skillfully our Saviour would refute the Jew from his own 
Scriptures, and how for the admirer of Nature and rejecter of 
Revelation he was always ready with some illustration, fresh, 
apposite, beautiful, forcible, of the doctrine he inculcated — 
how 7 Nature seemed to teem with illustrations and argument, 
and how the flowers of the valley, the trees of the forest, the 
birds of the air, and the clouds of the sky, would furnish some 
bold analogy, some mild reproof, some soothing consolation, 
some exercise for the intellect and the heart, some food for 
the souls around him ? Nay, so far is reason from being 
represented, in the Bible, as hostile to religion, that they 
are ever considered as inseparable companions. Reason is 
the constant attendant of religion — religion the perfection 
of reason. Sin is only another name for folly. Religion, 
the synonym of wisdom, the highest wisdom, the best, 
purest, truest reason, aims to attain the greatest, noblest, 
happiest ends by the best means ; looks onward and upward 
wnth widest glance to the greatest, most enduring and im- 
portant results. 

And here allow me one passing remark. Religion is the 



NOT OPPOSED TO REASON. 393 

highest reason, and individuals and communities, advancing 
in religion, are most advanced in wisdom. Hence you have 
never seen an individual really converted, however ignorant, 
or frivolous, or thoughtless, who did not immediately advance 
in intelligence and rationality. Among serious Christians I 
have never seen a vacant, senseless countenance. Again, in 
your efforts to advance religion, in future life, do not depend 
on, nor be satisfied with, sudden bursts of transient excite- 
ment. Be assured, religion is wisdom — is deep, serious, sober, 
calm, continued thoughtfulness. Its foundation is serious 
thought, solid instruction. None but a thinking, intelligent 
community, can long continue a truly Christian community. 
Again, you, who expect not to preach the Gospel, but desire 
to advance your country's happiness, remember that the surest 
foundations of a nation's welfare are laid in the depths of a 
nation's piety. Ignorance and vice are the bane of rejiublics ; 
for these religion is the only remedy. In all civilized nations 
she has been the pioneer of knowledge, the steady ally of 
freedom. It is the only principle of sufficient diffusiveness 
and power to pervade all classes of a wide community, to 
counteract the tendencies of corruption and decay inherent 
in every human society, and to wake up all its members to 
the conscious dignity of rational existence, and produce that 
real, practical equality without which our theories are vain. 
And it cannot be otherwise. If religion denounce our reason, 
then reason must denounce religion ; and to what shall she 
make her appeal, to whom present her credentials, w r ho shall 
examine her evidences, who shall understand her doctrines, 
who interpret her language, but the same reason whose exer- 
cise she is supposed to forbid ? No, it cannot be. The God 
of nature is God of grace, the God of revelation is God of 
reason too. He is the God of harmony, and cannot so have 
mingled the elements of discord in our being, that there shall 
be a contradiction between the revelation from without and 
the revelation from within us. But, let us not deceive our- 
selves ; there may be an apparent contradiction where there 
is no real one. Your reason may be enfeebled or diseased for 

17* 



- 

394 THE RELIGION OE THE BIBLE 

want of healthful exercise and nourishment, blinded by pre- 
judice, perverted by passion, stupefied, debased, brutalized by 
sensual indulgence. Vanity may betray ; sophistry bewil- 
der ; ignorance mislead ; and many of those high themes 
of which revelation treats, may stretch onward into a re- 
gion where reason cannot follow, where she can neither affirm 
nor deny, but must await in silence the communication of a 
higher wisdom. And this leads us to' inquire, in the second 
place, 

II. What is the appropriate employment of reason in mat- 
ters of religion ? And here, as on the former branch of the 
subject, we claim no peculiar exemption for religion from the 
keenest scrutiny of reason. We answer fearlessly, that here 
her office is the same as on any other subject. The method of 
investigation, and the laws which regulate her inquiries, are 
precisely the same. They are founded in the nature of the 
human mind, and do not vary with the subjects to which they 
are applied. And what is it that the intellect of man can ac- 
complish — what the office of reason, in any department of 
human inquiry ? It is simply and solely this — to observe 
facts, to collect and arrange them, to notice their points of 
resemblance and difference, to classify them according to these 
observed relations, to give them names, and to announce these 
as the laws or principles of the science. According to this 
view, now universally adopted, man is the creator of nothing ; 
he is only an observer, a collector, an arranger of facts. He 
does not stand forth as Nature's master, to square her pheno- 
mena according to his preconceived opinion or a priori theo- 
ries, but sits as a learner at her feet, and listens to her awful 
revelations. He stands in the great temple of nature, to ob- 
serve her varying aspects, and record them for his instruction ; 
to listen to her varied voices — the interpreter of her language 
the high-priest of Nature, not the Lord. 

There was once a different view of the subject, and a dif- 
ferent method. Men built up their gorgeous systems, and 
wove fine-spun theories, from materials their own brains had 
supplied ; and created a universe of their own, far different 



NOT OPPOSED TO REASON. 



395 



from that which God made. From the universal principles of 
reason, and the nature of things, they derived all truth and 
science. Such were the systems of alchemy, astronomy, and 
I mental philosophy, before the days of Bacon ; but these are 
i long since exploded. Now, the philosophy of modern times 
and of common sense has taught us that man knows nothing 
except as he has learned it. There are no materials of knowl- 
edge, or prototypes of truth, laid up in his reason. But facts, 
learned from his own observation, or the testimony of others, 
variously modified, combined, and classified, form the whole 
structure of his knowledge. 

We hope you are not wearied by this inquiry, to which our 
answer and conclusion must be, that the office of reason, in 
any science, is not to form its preconceived theories, and then 
reject or bend the facts; but simply to investigate the truth of 
facts, receiving each on its own appropriate evidence. Such is 
the modesty of true science. Such are the principles of all 
philosophical investigations. And such is the proper method 
of procedure in the investigation of religion. The field of 
inquiry is wide enough. When a system of natural science is 
presented, you do not reject it as inconsistent with your reason, 
but you ask for the facts. When these are presented, you 
demand the evidence for their truth. This is brought forward. 
You examine its separate parts— their mutual agreement — 
their united strength, and you yield or withhold your assent, 
as the preponderance of evidence may be. Are the facts con- 
clusive? the testimony convincing ? then there may be much 
that is mysterious, even inexplicable, in the case, and irrecon- 
cilable with your previous notions ; yet you do not reject — do 
not even doubt its truth (that is founded on its own evidence), 
but you strive to remove the difficulty, reconcile the apparent- 
contradiction ; and if you fail at last, you remember your own 
ignorance, and determine to persevere in your inquiries, assured 
that while your knowledge is limited and your reasonings are 
fallible, facts can never deceive you, nor really contradict each 
other. To the doctrine of natural philosophy, that all bodies 
are under the influence of gravitation, it may be objected that 



396 



THE RELIGION OF THE BIBLE 



feathers rise. To the doctrine that bodies put in motion 
move on forever in a straight line, it may be objected that a 
stone, or even a common ball, falls in a curve-line. You 
remember, the countryman objected to the earth's revolving 
around the sun, that he saw -the sun every day revolving 
around the earth, with his own eyes. These objections are 
obvious, and to ignorant men appear conclusive; yet, fully 
understood, they only confirm more fully the several truths. 
You do not stop at the objection, but examine farther. One 
of the demonstrations of mathematics is, that two lines may 
approach forever and never meet. We do not reject the 
demonstrations, but say it carries us into a region of infinities, 
where we cannot follow — into subjects beyond the limits of 
human reason ; yet its practical applications are important, 
and truths deduced from it most valuable. 

Now, we wish you to employ, in the department of religious 
inquiry, the same methods of investigation which have pro- 
duced such beneficial results in their application to physical 
science; to receive facts on their appropriate evidence; never 
to reject a well-supported fact, on account of objections founded, 
perhaps, in your ignorance; and when you get into the region 
of boundlessness and infinitude, to acknowledge the incompe- 
tence of your own faculties to grasp, to embrace, to wrestle 
with, objects of such transcendent greatness. Now, the re- 
ligion of the Bible, like the astronomy of Newton, is founded 
on facts ; and those facts you are allowed, nay, at the peril of 
your soul's salvation required, to investigate. It appeals to a 
magnificent scheme of prophecy, commencing from the fall of 
man, and extending in its mighty sweep, through all successive 
ages, down to the end of time. Is there such a scheme, or is 
there not ? Was it predicted that " the sceptre should not 
depart from Judah till Shiloh came — that he should come 
during the second temple — the light of the Gentiles — and that 
to him should be the gathering of the people?" And lias he 
come in the fullness of time ? Did the Gentiles cast their idols 
away, and did their temples fall throughout the globe ? And 
now is the crucified Jew worshiped as Lord of ail in all civilized 



NOT OPPOSED TO REASON". 



397 



nations? Is Babylon fallen, the glory of the Chaldees' excel- 
lency — her proud walls levelled in the dust — her palaces the 
possession of owls and lizards, bitterns, and pools of water? 
Wild beasts of the desert howl there. The Arabian shepherd 
fears to pitch his tent there, and the curse of God is printed on 
the very dust of her ruins. Is Egypt— oppressor of God's 
people — the basest of the kingdoms ? Is Tyre a bare rock 
for fishermen to spread nets ? Is prophecy an epitome of his- 
tory, written with a pen of brass upon the front of time ? Is 
Jerusalem desolate? Has the plowshare swept over her — 
her people scattered for eighteen hundred years, the by-word 
and scoff of nations ? Religion appeals to amazing miracles, 
performed by Christ, in the presence of his foes. Did they 
occur, or did they not ? Did he raise Lazarus, or were the 
Jews deceived ? Did he feed the five thousand with a few 
loaves of bread, or did they only dream so ? Did he rise 
from the grave, or were his disciples ignorant of his person ? 
Did they go forth with their lives in their hands, risking all, 
suffering all, losing all, to testify the story of his resurrection ? 
Did thousands of the Jews and ten thousands of Gentiles 
believe their report ? Did his religion spread in the face of 
power and prejudice and interest, till it covered the civilized 
world? These, and such facts as these, are worthy of your 
investigation. Their truth depends, not on any speculations 
or theories of yours, but on their own proper evidence. Ex- 
amine for yourself, and put all history to the question. 

And if the evidence be sufficient, and the facts be true, and 
we have indeed a revelation from God, about himself, his 
character and moral government, then what more has reason 
to do ? Is it to lie down and sleep ? ~No ; the trump of God 
has sounded, Let it be wider awake than ever. Proportioned 
to the importance of the communication should be the inten- 
sity of our attention and the earnestness of our investigation. 
Reason has to do here what it does in every other department 
of thought. You question Nature, and, laying aside all your 
theories, you humbly receive the communications she may 
make. All your anxiety is, that yon may understand her lan- 



398 



THE RELIGION OP THE BIBLE, ETC. 



guage aright. You question Revelation, and, renouncing all 
your cherished prejudices, you meekly listen to the instructions 
she affords. Man originates nothing — can originate nothing. 
In natural philosophy, he is the interpreter of Nature ; in 
religion, the interpreter of revelation. This is not the aban- 
donment, but the proper exercise, of reason. Nature and reve- 
lation are not opposed to each other, each being alike from 
God, each appealing alike to reason, and each alike demanding 
reason as its divinely constituted interpreter. 



XXII. 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



Matt. xi. 28. — "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest." 



"Unto you, O men, T call, and my voice is to the sons of men." 
Such is the voice of Divine wisdom in the book of Proverbs. 
It is in full harmony with our Saviour's gracious invitation in 
the text. It is a voice from heaven to earth — a loud voice, 
whose sound has gone forth to the ends of the world. It is 
the voice of authority, commanding us ; of tender and conde- 
scending love, inviting us to come. Sin is an alienation and 
departure from God — a forsaking and wandering in enmity 
and rebellion farther and farther from God. But God has not 
forgotten to observe the wanderer. His eyes behold, his eye- 
lids try the children of men. Looking down from his throne 
of exaltation upon his creatures, he sees them far away from 
the path of rectitude and allegiance, and going farther still, 
notwithstanding all his love and mercy. 

Does he then leave us to ourselves ? NTo, he sends forth a ' 
voice of warning, which, even at our distance, reaches us, and 
with authority commands us to return. The way of sin is fool- 
ish and dangerous. The voice of nature, of experience, of wis- 
dom, of conscience, all have spoken, but epoken in vain. They 
are lost upon us and forgotten. Now the voice of God speaks 
with authority and power; and how good it is in God not to 
leave us to our ruin ! 

He issues his high command, " Come unto me." We have 
cast off his high authority; but we have not annihilated it. He 
still commands both in heaven and on earth ; and it is a tearful 



400 



CHRIST'S G-RACIOUS INVITATION. 



thing to refuse obedience to him who speaks from heaven. The 
fool may say in his heart, " There is no God ; " yet God reigns 
over him, over all creatures ; his authority is independent of 
us and our acts. We may disobey him ; but still he reigns. 
The danger of disobedience is vividly portrayed in the first 
chapter of the book of Proverbs, " Because I have called and 
ye refused; I have stretched out my hand and no man regard- 
ed ; but ye have set at nought my counsel, and would none of 
my reproof ; I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock 
when your fear cometh ; when your fear cometh as desolation, 
and your destruction as a whirlwind." We are still in his king- 
dom. Though far from him, we are not beyond the reach of 
his arm. His eye, his very presence encompasses us. For, 
says the psalmist, "If I ascend up into heaven thou art there; 
if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there. If I take the 
wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the 
sea, even there shall thy hand lead me. If I say, surely the 
darkness shall cover me, even the night shall be light about 
me; the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." Let 
us then obey the voice that speaks from heaven, and say, 
" Lo, I come, I delight to do thy will, O God." 

I. The invitation is to all. It is broad as the sea, free as the 
air, universal as the race. It comes from heaven to earth, 
from God to man, from the Saviour of sinners to the perishing. 
" God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." Christ died for sinners, the just for the un- 
just. He came to seek and to save that which was lost. The 
Gospel is likened to a great feast given by a rich man, to which 
all are freely invited. It is compared to a river of life. " Ho, 
every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that 
hath no money, come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine 
and milk, without money and without price. Wherefore do ye 
spend money for that which is not bread, and your labor for 
that which satisfieth not ? Hearken diligently unto me, and 
eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in 
fatness." And so the Saviour cried in the last day, that great 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



401 



day of the feast, saying, " If any man thirst, let him come unto 
me and drink." John vii. 37. And so it is written in the last 
book of the Bible, " The Spirit and the bride- say, Come ; and let 
him that heareth say, Come ; and let him that is atbirst come ; 
and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." 
Prodigal son ! far from thy father's house, arise and come ; it 
is thy father's voice that calls thee, all love and tenderness and 
I compassion, saying, Come to my house and heart, the provisions 
! are all ready, and welcome shall greet thee here. Rebellious 
sinner ! thou hast violated my law, despised my mercy, grieved 
my spirit; thou hast hardened thy heart, and stiffened thy 
neck ; no love has softened, no wrath alarmed thee ; no com- 
mand, no invitation has influenced thee — but even to thee does 
my invitation extend ; come unto me, ungrateful wanderer, 
come, and find life and peace. I have tried to bind thee to my- 
self by ten thousand cords of mercy; thou hast burst them 
all, and gone to a fearful distance. I might well leave thee to 
perish in thy sins ; but still do I pursue thee with commands 
and invitations. Across the dark and dreary gulf have I cast 
up a highway. Come, then, safely, boldly, and without delay; 
it is the king's highway. 

From his own high and glorious throne did Christ come 
down to save us ; let us then return and come to him. The 
invitation is urgent, and it is open to all. Come unto me, and 
I will give you rest. He is ready, waiting, willing to receive 
you, just as you are. Men usually send to another for help, 
but he calls you to himself, in order to give you help. He 
giveth liberally and upbraideth not. If earthly fathers de- 
sert and earthly friends fail you, then come to him, who is a 
friend that sticketh closer than a brother — come to him, the 
great Father, who will never leave nor forsake the soul that 
trusts in him. If temptation assail, or sickness distress ; if 
persecutions arise, or storms of sorrow beat upon you, still 
come to him. He is high above your head, high as the hea- 
vens ; yet he stoops to invite you. He is holy, and you are 
sinful, yet he condescends to invite you. He has long been 
neglected, yet he still invites. He has all the treasures of 



402 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



wisdom and goodness in his hands, and invites you to come and 
take of his benefits. Let no fear, no guilt, no ridicule deter 
you. Let no difficulty, no indolence delay you. -Sit not still, 
but be up and doing. Resolve at once, if you have never be- 
fore, saying, "I will arise and go to my father." Now is the 
accepted time ; now is the day of your merciful visitation. 
Then delay not, but come humbly, penitently, prayerfully, sub- 
missively, earnestly ; for your soul's salvation agonize to enter 
in. " For the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the 
violent taketh it by force. 5 ' But wherewithal shall I come ? 
you may be ready to ask. Come in your nakedness and misery. 
Come without money and without price. No price is de- 
manded of you ; full atonement is already made ; Jesus has 
paid it all — all the debt you owe. Come, then, at once, and 
freely — -just as you are, without one plea, save that his blood 
has been shed for you, and you need his help. But, alas, 
some stop short on the way. They begin fairly, but reach not 
the point ; they set out for the kingdom of heaven, but turn 
back. They are convicted of sin, but not converted. Almost 
persuaded to be Christians, they come to the strait gate, but 
finding it too strait, they refuse to enter in, and return again 
to the world. 

II. Who are invited? The weary and heavy laden. The 
invitation is unlimited in its own nature ; yet it is addressed 
especially to those who need it most, and are most apt to re- 
ceive it. Hence the hungry and thirsty are invited. The very 
terms contain an argument. For the hungry, thirsty, weary, 
sinful, what can be better than food, drink, rest, and pardon ? 
The invitation applies to all of us who are weary in our strug- 
gles after earthly good ; and we are urged to come to him 
who is the source of all spiritual and heavenly blessings. 

There was once an Eastern prince, the son of an illustrious 
father, who had been renowned alike for his virtues and his 
genius. That father had been successful both in peace and 
war. Brave in the field, prudent in the cabinet, at once an 
admired poet and a successful warrior, he was beloved at home 
and respected abroad. He had raised his people from an ob- 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



403 



scure and despised tribe to a prosperous and respected nation. 
The son of such a father, sitting on a throne thus established 
in the affections of the people and the respect of foreigners, 
this renowned prince was blessed with unusual prosperity and 
peace through his long reign. He was celebrated for the wis- 
dom and the splendor of his court. His commerce extended 
to every known sea, and brought all foreign luxuries to his 
door. His native land was that of the olive, the pomegranate, 
and the vine, where the human passions were as luxuriant as 
the growth of the soil, and the means for their indulgence and 
gratification were fully equal to their desire. In this land of 
passion, on this throne of power, and with these means of in- 
dulgence, the favored son of fortune traveled the whole 
round of worldly pleasure. All that heart could crave or in- 
tellect could relish or sense enjoy was his. Xow he pored over 
the page of wisdom ; now he studied nature and wrote many 
volumes on her productions ; and now he rejoiced in sensual 
pleasures. His court was the most voluptuous and gay ; his 
equipages, the most splendid ; his grounds, the most carefully 
and expensively adorned ; his palaces, the most magnificent ; 
his chariots, drawn by horses from Egypt ; his gardens, 
redolent with the spices of Arabia ; his halls, glittering with 
the gold of Ophir; while princes of other lands crowded to 
his court, to witness that wisdom of which fame spoke so 
loudly. Deep did he drink of every cup of pleasure ; and in 
the ardor of his impetuous temperament, hotly did he pursue 
each object of his changeful desire. Xow he labored in- 
tensely to accumulate and arrange the science of his age and 
country ; and now he quaffed in maddening merriment the 
sparkling bowl. Xow he tastefully arranged his princely 
pleasure-grounds, and now drank in the flattery of his ob- 
sequious court. And after thus trying all earthly pursuits, 
and drinking in all earthly pleasures, he turns in weariness 
away from them all, and in the book which records the valued 
results of this large experience, he gives us the conclusion of 
the whole matter, in one brief but significant sentence — 
" Vanity of vanities, all is vanity and vexation of spirit." 



404 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



And who of us has not often felt, in his own wearied and 
jaded spirit, the sickening influence of this same conclusion ? 
Who has not found, in his experience of life, the truth of this 
mournful but weighty utterance — that all the world can give 
is vanity and vexation of spirit ? It cannot satisfy the soul nor 
give it rest. Behold the man so ardent in pursuit of wealth. 
How he wrestles and struggles for it. See how it becomes the 
subject of his daily thoughts and nightly aspirations. He has 
made gold his confidence, and fine gold his trust, aud Mam- 
mon, the god of wealth, has become the god of his idolatry. 
He forms it not into an image ; he builds no temple ; he offers 
no sacrifice. This, indeed, is not necessary to constitute him 
an idolater ; but his heart is the temple and the victim too. 
His idolatry is as real as if he made an idol, placed it in some 
conspicuous place, and morning and evening worshiped it — 
turning to his treasure as faithfully as the Jew to Jerusalem, or 
the Persian to the rising sun. How many of those who have de- 
voted a long life, body and soul, to the accumulation of wealth, 
with every energy strung up to its intensest tension, and the 
strained sinews almost cracked by the effort, have felt at last 
that it was all vanity and vexation of spirit ; that there are 
desires which wealth cannot satiate ; wants which gold cannot 
supply ; longings of our immortal nature which earthly riches 
cannot meet. How many have felt and confessed that they 
have spent their time for that which is not bread, and labored 
for that which satisfieth not. And how many, at last, would 
have been willing to exchange all that earth can give for 
the quiet and peaceful rest of the soul. " For what shall it 
profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, 
or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul ?" 

Behold the man who is borne along on the full, fair breeze 
of popular applause, when deserted by his friends and slan- 
dered by his foes: how often, as the hot blood courses furiously 
through his veins, and his feverish frame sinks exhausted by 
over-excitement — how often does he curse the fickle populace, 
and bitterly denounce the corruption of the great ! How often, 
when deserted, and misrepresented, and slandered by his fel- 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 405 

; low-men, does he mourn over that madness which sacrificed 
health, conscience, peace, everything, to popularity, and feel in 
his inmost soul that all is vanity and vexation of spirit ! How 
gladly would he exchange all past triumphs and future pros- 
pects for that peace which has now departed from him, per- 
haps forever ! 

Thus might we pass from one worldly pursuit to another, 
,j and show that, when supremely valued, they are vanity and 
vexation of spirit. There is no peace, saith the Lord, to the 
wicked; but they are like the troubled sea when it cannot 
! rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. See that white 
foam riding on the surface, that dark sediment rolled up from 
the bottom, both dashing against the strand : even such is the 
tempest of stormy and ungovernable human passions. It is 
like the dark billows of the ocean, heaved upward by the 
storm, now rising, towering, dashing onward in their fury, now 
swelling, boiling, curling from beneath, careless of all human 
interests, wrecking all human hopes, and engulfing in their 
wild roar all that is loveliest and dearest to human kind. 
Thus insatiable, impetuous, ungovernable, destructive, are the 
appetites of the wicked. For this war of nature's elements 
in the soul there is but one remedy — but one power on earth 
that can say, Peace, be still, and there shall be a calm. That 
remedy, that power, is found alone in the Gospel of Christ. 

III. What then is the duty of every weary and heavy-laden 
soul ? It is simple, but it is urgent. Take my yoke upon you, 
and learn of me ; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. 
It is good for man that he bear this yoke in his youth. It is far 
different from that which is imposed by Satan and the world. 
The yoke of sin is galling ; its bondage is hard and cruel ; 
its demands are ever increasing ; every gratification of sinful 
passion only inflames desire, makes the pleasure less and less, 
and never says, It is enough. Sin and the world cry, Give, 
give, and every hour brings a new demand, until the mind and 
body, overstrained, become enfeebled and worn out in the pur- 
suit of things that perish in the using. 

Sin has introduced a strange conflict into the mind of man, 



406 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 



between his passions and his reason and conscience — the in- 
ward elements dashing and warring against each other. Con- 
ceive, if yon can, of a living being so strangely constituted 
that all its parts are hostile to each other, every muscle play- 
ing against every other mnscle ; every nerve jarring against 
every other nerve — bones, joints, tendons, all waging perpetual 
war. This is the condition of man without the gospel. Alt 
inward harmony is gone. Reason and conscience grasp and 
strive to hold the reins ; but passion dashes furiously and 
recklessly on. The conflict rages till conscience is destroyed, 
reason loses its power, and the man becomes a brute or 
demon. Such is the work of sin, when sin is left to run its 
course, unchecked by any influences of truth -and virtue. Who 
would not wish for rescue, and for rest, from this turmoil of 
his own natural elements, this war of sinful appetites and 
passions ? Who would not desire some remedy or antidote 
for the ruin which sin has introduced into the soul ? Where 
then shall the soul, burdened with conscious guilt, find rest 
and peace ? 

IV. The answer can be found only in Christ. I will give 
you rest. Come unto me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, 
and ye shall find rest unto your souls. I will give true rest 
unto the soul, perfect rest to the agitated passions. Christ 
speaks, and there is a great calm; the "possessed " is in his 
right mine) ; the oil of grace is on the waters. How beautiful 
the sea, when the storm is over and the waters at rest — the 
moonbeams reposing softly on its deep bosom, or the morning 
sun sparkling in the light waves that play on its surface. 
Even so is the tranquilized spirit — tranquil on its surface, with 
heaven reflected in its depths. The unsettled affections, once 
straying from object to object, uneasy and dissatisfied, are now 
fixed on God. " Great peace have they, they that love thy 
law," says the psalmist. There is rest to the conscience, that 
peace of God which passeth all understanding. " Peace I 
leave with you," says Christ ; " my peace I give unto you, not 
as the world giveth, give I unto you." There is rest from 
sin and temptation. It is begun now, but perfected in glory. 



CHRIST'S GRACIOUS INVITATION. 407 

J 

This is that eternal rest which remains for the people of God, 
rest from all that annoyed us here below, rest in the bosom of 
( our God. What glorious rest ! Come unto me, and you shall 
obtain it. 

- Now, is not this rest needed by all ? There lives not a man 
who is always free from inward conflict. It may seem to be 
transitory ; but it is nevertheless there, deep and abiding in 
the soul. It is in this condition of disquiet and unrest that the 
Saviour's invitation comes to us, and his promise meets our 
conscious wants. Come unto me, and I will give you rest. 
It is thus that he speaks to the deepest wants of our nature, 
and has provided relief from the crushing and cruel bondage 
of sin and Satan. But you must hunger and thirst after right- 
eousness before you can be filled ; you must feel the dreadful 
disease of your nature before the physician can heal ; you must 
be convicted of your sin before you can be pardoned and 
made holy ; you must feel the burden before you can desire or 
enjoy rest. This is the order of nature and of grace — appetite 
before food. All provisions are for corresponding desires. 
Hence all good men have been weary and heavy laden with 
their sins, before they came to Christ for rest. David found it 
so ; the publican found it so ; the prodigal son found it so ; 
and so must it be with us. 



XXIII. 



THE NECESSITY OF KEGENEEATION. 



John" iii. 3. — "Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto 
thee, Except a man be born again lie cannot see the kingdom of God." 



God is a spirit. His government is spiritual, his service 
spiritual; and they that worship him, must worship him in 
spirit and in truth. His law is spiritual, exceedingly broad, 
reaching the thoughts and intents of the heart. The kingdom 
of heaven is a spiritual kingdom ; its employments and pleas- 
ures are all spiritual ; its inhabitants are holy and happy spirits 
who, from their creation, have been pure intelligences, or who, 
once manacled in clay, have burst their fetters and risen to re- 
fined and spiritual enjoyments above. Now, we might con- 
clude clearly from the character of God, and from his law and 
kingdom, that the nature of our preparation for heaven would 
be, in some measure, correspondent to the nature of the king- 
dom to be prepared for us. The birth here spoken of is a 
spiritual birth, an internal change, not an outward act or con- 
dition. But in the present age of free and bold inquiry, keen 
and searching scrutiny, when all opinions are questioned, all 
points assailed, we are forced to go back again to first princi- 
ples; examine afresh questions which were settled years ago; 
and lay anew the foundations of our fiith. Such questions are 
before us to-day, as to the nature of the new birth spoken of 
in the text, as a necessary preparation for heaven. 

In the dark ages of Popery a dreamy mysticism prevailed, 
which saw strange mysteries in the sacrament. To the Lord's 
supper and baptism it attributed strange efficacy, instead of see- 
ing a wise- adaptation to the character of man, addressing tho 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



409 



mind through the senses. Hence bread and wine blessed by 
the priest assumed new sacredness, acquired new qualities, and 
wrought strange wonders by a secret power; while the holy 
water of baptism, with virtue scarcely less am n zing, wrought 
prodigies scarcely less miraculous. And in all ages and in all 
countries, Jewish, Papal, Pagan, Protestant — from the formal 
Pharisee to the fanatical Anabaptist ; from the pilgrim to Jeru- 
salem or Mecca, and the sell-immolator at the car of Jugger- 
naut, to the comfortable citizen who takes his easy walk or 
pleasant ride to the spacious church, to hear a silken sermon, 
on velvet cushions; from the offerer of sacrifices to the offerer 
of prayers ; from him who washes away sin with the blood 
that streams from his lacerated body, to him that washes it 
away with flowing water — has been exhibited the same uni- 
versal tendency, to substitute some outward service for the 
religion of the heart. Now we must be permitted to express 
our unfeigned astonishment ; not that this is indulged as a feel- 
ing natural to the human heart, but that, in an enlightened 
age, in a Protestant nation, it should be avowed as a sentiment, 
expressed in words, formed into a system, urged as an article 
of faith, and boldly vindicated as a thing that may challenge 
investigation. 

We say, it is astonishing that this should be done in a Prot- 
estant nation; because it was on this doctrine of spiritual re- 
ligion — the religion of the heart as opposed to outward forms, 
that the great battle of the Reformation was fought ; as Sir 
James Mackintosh well observes. This was the fundamental 
principle of all Protestantism. Here Luther took his stand, 
and laid this as the broad foundation of all moral and religious 
truth. Man is not justified, saved, and morally approved by 
God for any outward act or acts, but on the ground of inward 
principle or character. We say, it is astonishing that this 
should be done in an enlightened a<re ; because this principle, 
so plainly avowed, so successfully defended, so widely diffused 
by Luther and his coadjutors, has been received and adopted 
in all our modern histories, and in all our schools of philosophy ; 
incorporated in our very civilization and recognized as fuuda- 

18 



410 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



mental truth by all writers on moral science, whether infidel 
or Christian, till it has become, as it were, the common patri- 
mony of mankind. Like the light of day, it radiates indeed 
from the sun ; yet men enjoy its beams without reflecting on 
the source from which it comes. 

I. The new birth is the necessary preparation of the soul for 
heaven. To the opinion, then, which makes it an outward rite, 
we object, that it is a palpable absurdity, utterly subversive of 
all the settled principles of morals and religion, alike abhor- 
rent to all the teachings of revelation, and the dictates of 
reason. If there be any one truth on earth, more incontrover- 
tible than all besides, sustained by the universal assent of 
mankind, forced on the convictions of all rational men, by its 
own intrinsic evidence, it is that the seat of religion is in the 
.heart, and not in the outward man ; that the Divine law is de- 
signed to regulate the moral feelings and character of man ; 
and that, only as a moral being, is he the subject of a moral 
government, of reward and punishment, of approbation or cen- 
sure. Hence the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, as 
consisting in any outward or material thing, but righteousness 
and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. For the kingdom of 
God, said our Saviour, is within you. 

There are indeed two kingdoms — the natural, material king- 
dom, and a spiritual kingdom. They are as different as matter 
and mind ; as far apart as heaven and earth. Each has its 
own separate laws. The body is matter, and belongs to one ; 
the mind is spirit, and belongs to the other. Religion is not a 
»ystem of material laws. It is not a system of mechanics, to 
regulate the play of pulleys, tendons, joints, and grooves ; not 
a system of hydrostatics, to regulate the motion of fluids ; 
nor a physiology, to control the operations of internal viscera, 
glands, and secretions ; but a system of moral rules and prin- 
ciples, to regulate the conduct of moral agents ; and of these 
the heart or spirit is the only proper object. The law of God 
passes by all these grosser elements, which are the mere in- 
struments of the man, and not the man himself, and drives 
borne upon the heart; there utters its voice; there stretches 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 411 



forth its sceptre. The eye of God, seeing not as man sees, 
pierces through all the outward films of the flesh, and looks 
deep down into the heart. If all be right within, God and the 
soul are satisfied. 

Brethren, can it be necessary to argue such points as these ? 
Have you forgotten that solemn call of God, " Son, give me thy 
heart?" Have you forgotten that earnest warning, "Keep 
thy heart with all diligence ; for out of it are the issues of 
life ? " Have you forgotten that indignant expostulation of our 
Saviour, in Mark vii. 18, "Are ye so without understanding 
also ? Do ye not perceive, that whatsoever thing from with- 
out, entereth into the man, it cannot defile him : because it en- 
tereth not into his heart. But that which cometh out of the 
man, that defileth him. For, from within, out of the heart of 
man, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, 
thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil 
eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness ; all these evil things come 
from within, and defile the man." Or have you forgotten that 
positive and comprehensive assertion, that " love is the fulfil- 
ling of the law." The principle is not confined to religion, 
but is spread over the whole field of human thought and hu- 
man intercourse. In all things it is the heart we require, 
whether in friend or benefactor. If that be right, all is right. 
If that be wanting, all is wrong. We value the external act, 
only as it is the manifestation of the inward feeling, and the 
instrument of the inward man. The eye kindles, the hand 
stretches out its cordial salutation and hearty welcome, but all 
the virtue resides in the soul. These outward manifestations 
please us, only as they are indications of the heart within. 
Suppose that in any of these outward manifestations you found 
there was no heart. You would only abhor, with deeper de- 
testation, the mere appearance of good-will. So all apparent 
kindness, if discovered to be done in hatred or parade, only 
chills us the more by its heartless hypocrisy. So when relieved 
by another's helping hand, or defended from danger hj his 
strong arm or sword — it matters not — these are but instruments, 
and if no heartfelt kindness prompted the act, we can feel no 



412 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



pleasure in it. On the other hand, if wounded by another 
without design, we may feel the discomfort of physical pain, 
but our moral nature forbids displeasure. The disabled friend, 
with good wishes and warm affections, who would help us, but 
cannot, we value more, even in his impotence, than all the 
heartless favors of the great. He may have no arm to save 
ns, no money with which to help us, yet feeling that his heart 
is with us, we have that which we more highly prize. 

But God needs not these outward manifestations. He looks 
directly at the heart, knows all that is within the heart, and 
deals with it accordingly. Whenever, under the old or new 
dispensation, men confounded, mistook, or substituted the sign 
for the thing signified, the outward act for the inward feeling, 
the shadow for the substance, the shell for the kernel, He makes 
it the subject for the most earnest expostulation, the keenest 
reproofs, the deepest and most fearful denunciations. It was 
for this especially that the Saviour poured forth that torrent of 
bitterest sarcasm, and of fiercest indignation, against the 
Scribes and Pharisees, as hypocrites and whited sepulchres. 
Substituting outward washing for inward purity, they were 
scrupulously exact in tithing mint, anise, and cummin, while 
they left undone the weightier matters of the law; judgment, 
mercy, and faith. From the very opposite view, he praised 
the young ruler who on a certain occasion approached him 
with humility, candor, and sincerity, and said : " Thou art not 
far from the kingdom of heaven." 

II. The opinion that the new birth consists in anything out- 
ward, or any outward action, contradicts all the representa- 
tions of Scripture. It would be easy to show by a multi- 
tude of passages, all bearing on this subject, that the Scripture 
demands inward purity or holiness of heart. The Bible rep- 
resents all outward rites and ceremonies as being but the 
signs and symbols of internal purification, not as substitutes 
for or producers of inward holiness. Especially was this the 
case with the rite of circumcision, and the various sacrifices of 
the Old Testament economy. And equally so is it with the 
two great ordinances of the New Testament, baptism and the 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



413 



Lord's supper. Bread and wine are simply emblems to 
shadow forth the body and blood of Christ, which must be 
received by faith alone, springing from the heart of the be- 
liever. The water of baptism is but the sign of that washing 
of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost which must 
be wrought in the heart of the believer. But the Jews were 
constantly inclined to exalt the external above the internal, 
substituting circumcision and sacrifice for that piety of the 
heart which they were intended to secure. Thus when they 
oifered to God this mere lip-service, he spurned them indig- 
nantly away, on the ground that he required the heart, and 
not sacrifices and vain oblations. 

"We see then that regeneration is a great spiritual change, a 
renovation of man's whole nature and character, without 
which he cannot enter into life. u Marvel not that I said unto 
thee ye must be born again." " Except a man be born again, 
he cannot see the kingdom of God." The necessity for such 
a change in man may be argued from the nature of God, from 
the character of the Son of God, and from the nature of the 
kingdom of heaven, whose inhabitants and employments are 
all holy. We have seen the fallacy of that opinion, which 
represents the new birth as an outward rite, tracing it to its 
double origin, in the dreamy mysticism of the dark ages, when 
men saw secret and mysterious powers in holy water and con- 
secrated bread, and in the universal disposition of uncon- 
verted man to substitute outward form for inward holiness. 
We have seen that the first intuitive principle of all religion 
is, that the seat of piety mustr be in the heart ; and that the 
first great truth in all morals is, that man is the subject of 
moral government, in his moral and spiritual nature. We 
have seen how fully these principles are recognized in the 
Bible, which represents the outward rites of religion, not as 
substitutes for inward holiness, nor as producers of holiness, 
nor as holiness itself, but as signs, symbols, and seals of in- 
ward character. 

If now any one should assert that an outward rite, as that 
of baptism, produces regeneration (abandoning the position 



414 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION". 



that it is regeneration), this last absurdity is as great as the 
first, and liable to the same objection. For, as in the doc- 
trine of transubstantiation, it attributes to water qualities and 
powers not before existing, and impalpable to our senses — 
thus making a miracle when we see no miracle. We shall not 
delay you by discussing, at greater length, an opinion which 
carries its own condemnation so obviously along with it, and 
which, to be refuted, needs only to be stated and clearly under- 
stood. We therefore briefly remark on this subject : First, that 
justification and salvation are never connected with baptism, 
or any other outward rite alone, but always with some inward 
principle. Secondly, that punishment is never threatened for 
the want of baptism alone, but of something else inward and 
spiritual. Thirdly, that there are cases, in Scripture, of some 
who were baptized with water and not saved, as Judas and 
Simon Magus ; while some have received the Holy Spirit and 
been saved without this outward baptism, as the patriarchs 
and prophets, and the penitent thief on the cross. Fourthly, 
that it is against the whole drift and tenor of the Gospel, 
which represents sin as an internal disease, for which it pro- 
vides an inward remedy ; as a moral disorder, for which it 
provides a moral cure ; as a deep malady of the spirit, for 
which it offers spiritual relief. 

We have so often, and at such great length, recently spoken of 
the nature of true religion as the image of God on the heart and 
the life of God in the soul ; as a transition from darkness to light 
and from death to life ; as a new creation by the mighty power 
of God, that I need not delay you longer on this branch of the 
subject, but proceed at once to consider other points. Ye 
must be born again. There are many men, as we are well 
aware, before whose minds this whole subject lies wrapped in 
impenetrable mystery. Like Nicodemus, they believe Christ 
to be a teacher sent from God. They are won by the beauty 
of his pure and elevated morality, astonished at the sublimity 
of Divine instruction, convinced by the evidence of his stu- 
pendous miracles, and captivated by the blended dignity and 
gentleness, humility and grandeur of his unrivalled character. 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



415 



They have witnessed the benign influence of his Gospel on 
society around them. They have seen it casting over the 
violence of angry passions the charms of its restraints, more 
potent than the terrors of the law, or the fetters and dungeons 
of despotic power. They have marked it at the bed of sickness, 
and in the house of mourning, breathing its own sweet serenity 
into the troubled bosom, kindling the pallid cheek of disease, 
brightening the eye of sorrow, and, by its exalted hopes, rob- 
bing death of its sting and the grave of its victory. History 
also has told them of still greater wonders, which it has wrought 
on a wider theatre, and down through the lapse of past ages, 
as, issuing from Judea, it went forth from country to country, 
visiting only to bless, civilizing barbarous tribes, banishing 
bloody, impure, and idolatrous superstitions, casting into new 
mould and pervading with new spirit all the institutions of 
mankind. They have seen it giving freedom to civilized gov- 
ernment, purity to domestic life, humanity to war itself — the 
very sun and centre of the social system, ever beaming from 
heaven, and, though obscured for a season, yet bursting forth 
again, the source of light and warmth and life to all. All 
this they have known and pondered ; and they regard with 
real respect, nay, with reverence and admiration, the author of 
a system so widely diffused, so powerfully influential, so ad- 
mirably adapted to the condition and character of man, so 
replete with all blessings to the earth ; and so they come with 
sincere interest, and with respectful deference, to inquire of 
this great teacher in Israel. 

But behold what amazement, what hopeless perplexity and 
dismay they feel, when they hear the Saviour say, " Verily, 
verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot 
see the kingdom of God." It sounds to them like the strange 
language of an unknown land, like the indistinct and myste- 
rious muttering of an unknown oracle, awful and terrific, but 
unintelligible ; and they exclaim with Nicodemus, How can 
these things be ? 

But mark the gentleness at once and wisdom of the Saviour. 
He does not drive him from his presence ; he does not sternly 



416 



THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. 



rebuke his incredulity; nor authoritatively command his belief 
of a proposition which his reason honestly but inconsistently 
rejects. But he kindly stoops to reason with him, to remove 
his difficulties, to relieve his scruples; and, with that quick 
and felicitous tact which ever distinguished him as a teacher, 
lie seizes at once the principle of the objection, and, with the 
rapid glance of one to whom the whole economy of the uni- 
verse was known, he refers directly to analogous cases in our 
daily experience, to show the futility of the objection. Nico- 
demus came by night. The mild air of the evening was then 
breathing around them, so delightful after the oppressive heat 
of an Eastern sun. His objection was, how can an invisible 
cause produce a change in human character, itself as invisible 
as the cause which produces it ? And as they enjoyed the lux- 
ury of this cool, refreshing breeze, the Saviour directs his at- 
tention to the undoubted instance of the operation of a cause, 
whose origin is unknown, whose progress cannot be traced ; 
and yet its results are most important and undeniable. That 
breath of air which whispers through the lattice, murmurs 
amidst the vines, and rustles the leaves — whence has it come, 
to fan your cheek and cool your brow? From the distant 
sea, over the mountain's top, through the lonely valley, amidst 
forests and groves, flowers and vineyards, it has wandered, 
nourishing man and beast, vegetable, tree, and flower. But 
who is able to trace its course and tell its wanderings? Who 
can explain its coming and its going ? " The wind bloweth 
where it listeth, and thou nearest the sound thereof, but canst 
not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth. So is every one 
that is born of the Spirit." The argument is, if you can be- 
lieve in the facts of the material world, and in the common 
experiences of daily life, without being able to understand all 
the strange and inexplicable processes connected with them ; 
why should you be filled with wonder and incredulity, in ref- 
erence to the things of the spiritual and eternal world ! Be- 
lieving, as you profess to do, that I am a teacher come from 
God, marvel not that I said unto you, Ye must be born again. 



XXIV. 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



Job xiv. 4. — " Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one." 



There is an extraordinary depth, an awful solemnity, one 
might almost say a terrible and sublime audacity, in the views 
which the Bible presents of the condition of our fallen nature. 
It boldly approaches the subject and looks it directly in the 
face, in all its vast extent, and all its appalling difficulties. It 
denies nothing, it conceals nothing, it palliates nothing. It 
repudiates altogether the language of a feeling and fastidious 
philanthropy, of a false and fashionable and superficial phi- 
losophy, and comes forth with its own broad and sweeping 
annunciation of the total wreck and ruin of our nature — a ruin 
coeval with the origin of our race and co-extensive with all its 
families. It proclaims a helplessness which is co-extensive 
with this ruin — a helplessness as total as the ruin is complete. 
It tells of a " carnal mind which is enmity against God, which 
is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be /" of 
a " natural man that receiveth not the things of the spirit of 
God, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually 
discerned." 

The great Physician does not shrink from probing the wound 
to the bottom. He passes from the outward symptoms to the 
deep-seated inward malady, from the transient manifestation 
to the central and permanent source of ruin, and lays bare the 
foul disease which is festering amidst the vitals, in all its re- 
volting and hideous malignity. He traces it up to its origin 
in that first sin of the first man, the head and representative 
18* 



418 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



of our race, which brought death into the world and all our 
woe. " As by one man sin entered into the world, and death 
by sin, so death hath passed upon all men, because all have 
sinned." He tells us of that moral pestilence which, descend- 
ing from this first man through successive generations, has 
reached the whole of his posterity ; of the deadly virus of sin 
which has entered our system, and now mingles with our 
whole circulation, flows in the veins, throbs in the arteries, 
beats at the heart, flashes in the eyes, burns in the brain, and 
reaching every faculty and every element of our being, has 
poisoned and polluted all : till the understanding is shrouded 
in darkness, and the affections are seduced from their allegi- 
ance to God. Amidst the wild uproar of the tumultuous and 
insurgent passions, amidst the blackness of this moral mid- 
night, reason is dethroned, and conscience silenced, and the 
will subjugated; and every faculty and power of our fallen 
nature is mustered beneath the standard of a high-handed 
rebellion against God, and assumes the attitude of a proud 
defiance. 

There is, we know, a puerile and Pelagian philosophy which 
is the reverse of all this. It sees only upon earth individual 
men and individual actions. It isolates individual man from 
the race of which he is a member, and individual action from 
the whole course and current of his acts and feelings. It 
would wrench out the individual man from all his relations to 
the species to which he belongs, and the individual act from 
the whole life of which it is a part, and from that inward 
and permanent source and principle of action, of which it is 
only the external and transient manifestation. On this we re- 
mark, in passing, that it professes to be a philosophy, and yet 
denies itself in the very terms of its annunciation. There can 
be no philosophy of isolated beings or isolated acts. It is 
of the very essence of philosophy that it seeks to mount up to 
higher principles, to discover universal laws. It is based upon 
the instinctive conviction, that there is a stupendous unity in 
God's universe, a mighty purpose and a comprehensive plan, 
which embraces not only atoms but worlds, not only individuals 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



419 



but species; that binds together these atoms into a world, 
these individuals into a species, all participants of the same 
nature, subject to the same laws, heirs of the same glorious or 
fearful destiny, with a common ruin and a common remedy. 

Again, it solves the mystery of human depravity, by multi- 
plying that mystery indefinitely, by all the millions multi- 
plied by other millions of all past and future generations of 
mankind. It is in each a separate and ever-recurring mystery. 
Again, it explains the origin of evil, the darkest problem that 
overshadows and perplexes human reason, by gravely assuring 
us that each act of sin originates itself. Such is not the phi- 
losophy of the Bible, or of common sense. Both assure us 
that the man, by the very law of his birth which constitutes 
him man, inherits the nature of his race ; that the outward act 
is only the expression of the inward principle ; that the inward 
emotion, desire, passion, however transient, springs from a 
principle, a character, a nature, which long outlasts these fugi- 
tive emotions, and which, when they are past and forgotten, 
will originate other similar emotions by a process and a 
power as mysterious indeed, yet as certain as that which in- 
sures that the peach-tree, though now stripped of its leaves and 
fruit, will produce, on the return of spring, not plums or 
acorns, but its ordinary fruit ; and that the serpent, now stiff 
with the cold of winter, will awake in the spring with the 
serpent's venom and the serpent's spite, the serpent's glitter- 
ing skin and the serpent's fiery eye. 

Should any one object to this, let him object to the whole 
course of nature. His controversy is not with revelation, but 
with nature, and we leave him to settle it with the God of na- 
ture. Throughout all creation like produces like, whether in 
the animal or vegetable world. The dove does not issue from 
the eagle's egg, the fish from the serpent, the lamb from the 
tiger's dam, nor the poisonous berry from the fruitful vine. 
The young eagle may be hatched beneath the domestic fowl, 
and trained amidst her timid brood ; yet it is an eagle still, 
with the eagle's hooked beak, the eagle's talons, and the eagle's 
love for blood, with the eagle's eye of fire and the eagle's 



420 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAX. 



pinions, born to soar above the clouds, to make its home upon 
the mountain-top, and seek its prey amongst the weaker in- 
habitants of the forest. The young tiger, before it has lapped 
its tongue in blood, has still the tiger's tusks and the tiger's claws, 
the tiger's keen scent and ravenous appetite for flesh, which in 
after-life wakes it from the gentlest slumbers to bound forward 
in pursuit of prey. Extract the viper's fang and. its bag of 
poison, it is a viper still, with the serpent's coil, the serpent's 
hiss, its tendency to strike, and the whole serpent-nature dif- 
fused throughout its frame. The poisonous shrub, even before 
it has expanded into bloom or ripened into fruit, has its poison- 
ous nature ; and, in its earliest germ, while invisible to man, 
contains the causes and the elements, yet undeveloped, which 
insure the future product — elements and causes mysterious 
arid inscrutable to man, to which, in our ignorance, we give 
the name of nature. Nor is there anything peculiarly mys- 
terious here. It is only that universal mystery which en- 
shrouds all the ultimate facts in creation, and constitutes the. 
boundary of all human knowledge. We know nothing of any 
causes directly ; we only know them from their effects ; and 
with all our supposed knowledge of the external world around 
us, we only know that it is the cause, the unknown cause, of 
our various sensations. The sweetness and the color of the 
rose are to us the unknown causes of our sensations ; and 
when we ask why the rose is fragrant, or the stone falls to the 
ground, our only answer is alike in either case, Because such 
is its nature, such is the inscrutable law of its being. No be- 
ing can change its own nature ; and if there be in man a de- 
praved and corrupted nature, "Who," says Job, "can bring a 
clean thing out of an unclean ? " 

First. Can education ? Can education, even in its utmost 
perfection, based on a perfect knowledge of all the laws and 
elements of the human mind ? In the most successful efforts, 
it is only one human mind operating on another. The subject, 
agent, and instruments are only the same laws of mind. It 
originates nothing, creates nothing. Great is the power of 
education in moulding human character ; equal indeed to that 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAX. 



421 



of man in fashioning external nature ; and the limits of its 
agency are precisely the same. In all the mightiest changes 
produced by human science, directed by human ingenuity, no 
particle of matter is created. The machinist, in the most 
wonderful and successful efforts of his skill, employs only the 
known laws and powers of matter. The chemist, in the rarest 
and most beautiful productions of his science, in all his com- 
binations and decompositions, even when new results come 
forth unobserved and unparalleled before, has still employed 
only the existing elements and existing laws of matter. He 
may bring those elements into new relations ; and new suscep- 
tibilities, hitherto unsuspected, may be developed ; but those 
susceptibilities were not then first created ; though latent, 
they existed long before. The steam-car, as it sweeps on its 
rapid and resistless course, is propelled, not by any new-created 
power or element, but by the expansive power of steam. 

As in matter, so is it in mind. The revolutions which have 
been produced by the agency of man in the asj^ect of external 
nature, prodigious as they are, are rivalled and surpassed by 
the mightier influence of mind on mind in education. Igno- 
rance has been enlightened by knowledge, weakness matured 
into strength, rudeness polished into refinement, debasing 
superstition exchanged for a calm philosophy, whole nations of 
barbarians elevated to the dignity of enlightened freemen. 
But here, too, we are limited in our agency to the materials 
on which we operate, the laws and elements already existing 
in the soul of man. We cannot add to the human frame a 
single limb, organ, or muscle ; not a gland, even the minutest, 
nor the flimsiest tissue. Nor can we add to the human mind 
a single susceptibility or power, a single capacity of thought, 
of feeling, or of action. We may strengthen what is weak 
by exercise and healthy nutriment ; we may expand, enlarge, 
develop what otherwise might have remained inactive. We 
may whet the intellect to logical acuteness, or expand it into 
breadth and comprehension. We may rouse the imagination 
to a loftier and bolder flight, and store it with images of beauty 
or of grandeur. We may cultivate the gentler and more be- 



422 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 



nevolent affections, and thus shed a sweeter grace over all the 
walks of social and domestic life. All this we may do ; but 
we can add no new element to the soul of man ; and if there 
be by nature no principle of holiness there, education cannot 
implant it. Holiness is a life, a spiritual life, the life of God 
in the soul. Combine and organize those dead elements as we 
may, spiritual life we cannot infuse. All the elements that 
constitute the human body lie scattered everywhere around 
us — in the earth on which we stand, the air we breathe, and 
the water which we drink. Yet, if all were gathered and com- 
bined in perfect organization, though nature might supply the 
dead materials, all nature and all human power could not sup- 
ply the life. So in that sublime vision of Ezekiel, as he wan- 
dered through that valley of desolation, and beheld the multi- 
tude of dry bones whitening there, though bone leaped to its 
fellow at the voice of the prophet, and the joints united in 
perfect articulation, and muscle and sinew and vein and artery, 
and every particle and every element had taken its appropri- 
ate place, yet the bodies lay there before him a ghastly con- 
gregation of the dead, till the breath of the Lord came down, 
with its life-giving power, and those corpses stood up as living 
men. 

All human history, for near six thousand years, has been 
one vast and varied experiment on the power of education to 
renovate the race. The mightiest intellects, through these 
successive centuries, have employed all the resources of their 
genius — by the tongue, the pen, and the press — to improve 
and reform mankind. They have produced consummate gen- 
erals, profound philosophers, gifted orators, and admirable 
poets — but not one man of God. Human nature has still re- 
mained, in all its essential elements, unchanged — worldly, 
sensual, godless ; no tendency to evil eradicated, no element 
of holiness infused. Education cannot renovate the nature of 
man, cannot bring a clean thing out of an unclean. 

Let us not be supposed, however, to underrate the value of 
Christian education. Great is the efficacy of truly Christian 
instruction, the power of Christian example, of that gentle 



THE HELPLESS DEPRAVITY OF MAX. 



423 



piety which diffuses its hallowed radiance over all around. 
Precious beyond all thought and all expression are those seeds 
of truth which are early implanted in the infant mind. But 
let us not forget that this efficacy is connected with God's 
promised grace ; that these germs of truth must be quickened 
into life by the dews of heaven, and the life-giving beams of 
the Sun of righteousness. I remember, in my early youth, to 
have heard a lady of distinguished family and great intelligence 
say : M I have no fear that my sons will go astray, they have 
been too well educated ! " Beloved brethren, God is jealous of 
his honor, and will not give his glory to another, lie will not 
bear that we should substitute our instruction for his grace. 
The very last and least of his redeemed people shall be shouted 
home with " Grace, grace unto it ; " and when one of our 
loved ones is really brought home to God, with streaming eyes 
and grateful hearts we must acknowledge, as of the lowest of 
people, that it is a miracle of grace. " It is the Lord's work, 
and marvellous in our eyes." 

Secondly. Can eloquence " bring a clean thing out of an un- 
clean ? " There are tones of the human voice that vibrate to 
the inmost soul of man, and awaken echoes there that had 
slumbered from our birth, thoughts and feelings, susceptibili- 
ties and powers, hitherto unknown. There are words which, 
when "fitly spoken," in appropriate combination, thrill along 
every fibre of the human heart, and, as by some strange in- 
tellectual chemistry, summon the hidden elements there into 
new and often startling results. Great is the power of elo- 
quence ! There is not a chord of the human heart which it 
cannot touch, not a passion which it cannot arouse or lull. 
But how can it touch a chord that is not there ? There are 
men who, with magic power, can sweep that instrument of a 
thousand strings — the heart of man — and dra w forth from each 
some tone responsive. But if the noblest of them all, that 
which ascends and is linked to the throne of God, and vibrates 
to the melodies of eternity, hang broken and tuneless there ; 
if one mightier than he has dashed athwart it his fiery finger, 
and snapped it, who shall awaken its lost harmonies ? 



XXV. 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



1 Cor. ii. 3. — " And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much 
trembling." 



"He has sold his birthright for a mess of pottage." Such 
was the profane and impious sneer, the contemptuous and 
almost blasphemous exclamation of a distinguished lawyer 
and politician, on hearing of the intended consecration to the 
work of the ministry of a beloved Christian brother, now 
gone to his reward, who devoted the ardor of early youth 
and the prime of a vigorous manhood, with uncommon elo- 
quence and success, to the proclamation of the Gospel ; who 
has left behind him a long memorial in the hearts of multi- 
tudes converted by his ministry, and added to every grace 
that could adorn the Christian gentleman, every power of 
persuasion and pathos that could signalize the consummate 
orator. " He has sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. Had 
he builded upon his father's name, and his father's exalted 
reputation, and pursued his father's profession, he might have 
erected a monument of fame to himself, and have perpetuated 
the honor of his family." 

Such are generally the opinions, the feelings, and the lan- 
guage of worldly men in regard to the ministry of the Gos- 
pel ; and not very different from this may be the feelings of 
some amongst ourselves, who can with difficulty escape the 
voice of conscience, and the claims of a perishing world upon 
their sympathy and efforts. And, my brethren, we are glad 
that it is so ; from our inmost soul we are glad that it is so. 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



425 



We are glad that the Gospel ministry is still a self-denying 
and self-sacrificing work; that it has no splendors to dazzle 
the young and the aspiring; no emoluments to bribe the 
worldly and the venal; that the cross is still a burden to be 
borne — the badge of meanness in the eyes of worldly men, 
the object of derision and reproach, not the symbol of power 
or the passport to fame. It is thus that the Saviour watches 
over the purity of his church, and at the very threshold of 
the sanctuary, erects a barrier which usually prevents the 
entrance of those whose vanity would corrupt the purity of 
her doctrines, whose ambition would mar the harmony of 
her counsels, or whose vices would tarnish her yet unspotted 
reputation ; thus out of transient evil, educing still enduring 
good, and causing alike the folly and the wrath of man most 
signally to advance the great purposes of God. 

But how different from all this are the sentiments expressed 
by the author of our text — the conscious weakness, the felt 
nn worthiness, the sacred reverence, the trembling awe in view 
of this high office! But who is this that yields such emphatic 
testimony to the Gospel ministry, as lie thus shrinks and 
trembles in view of its transcendent dignity, its arduous du- 
ties, its sublime and overwhelming responsibilities ? Is it 
some obscure individual ignorant of mankind, and alike un- 
known to them, who has lived and vegetated and died, leaving 
behind no memorial of his existence, no deep impression on 
his race ; who, unused to the business and affairs of men, and 
living in some quiet and obscure retreat, was abashed at the 
stare of crowds, would tremble at the approach of danger, 
and sinks in conscious imbecility beneath the weight of some 
great enterprise ? Answer me when I tell you he was such 
an one as Paul the aged, the servant of God, the apostle of 
our Lord Jesus Christ ; who was in nothing behind the very 
chiefest of the apostles — in labors more abundant, in sufferings 
above measure, in gifts pre-eminent, in revelations of the 
spirit exalted to the third heavens, and privileged to see and 
to hear unutterable mysteries ; in whose presence Felix trem- 
bled before the power of his argument, and Agrippa melted 



426 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



beneath the persuasion of his eloquence, and to whom, above 
all other men of ancient or of modern times, was granted this 
high pre-eminence, to stamp deep and broad upon the age in 
which he lived the impression of his character, and by his 
imperishable writings to guide the opinions and control the 
destiny of all succeeding generations. If, then, the great 
Apostle of the Gentiles, gifted as he was by nature, improved 
as he was by education, illuminated by all human learning 
and Divine revelation,was overwhelmed with the grandeur of 
this great work, and in view of the high and hallowed services 
of the Gospel ministry could exclaim, u I was with you in 
weakness and fear and great trembling ; " what shall we say 
of those who, in our day, rush forward with thoughtless im- 
petuosity and indecent haste into all the solemn responsi- 
bilities and arduous duties of this sacred calling? Let us 
consider, then, what are some of the qualifications and what 
the characteristics of a ministry which, amidst the emergen- 
cies of our day, and the crises just at hand, may stand forth 
before the world as the heralds of the Saviour, a workmen 
that need not be ashamed," — in other words, a ministry 
adapted to our times. 

I. First, then, we need a thoroughly devoted and consecrated 
ministry ; for, consider the high and solemn sacredness of this 
great office. Throughout the Holy Bible the design is every- 
where manifest, to diffuse an atmosphere of peculiar sacred- 
ness around the presence and immediate service of the Most 
High. When Moses was called to be God's messenger to 
Pharaoh and the deliverer of his people Israel, he was taught, 
by a most impressive symbol, the sacredness that belongs to 
the message and that should characterize the messenger. The 
Most High appeared to him in fire, the purest at once and 
the most terrible of elements, and as he approached to receive 
his commission, the voice of God, issuing from the burning 
bush, said : " Put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place 
whereon thou standest is holy ground." And when in after- 
years, as the minister of that former dispensation, he received 
from the hands of God the tables of the law, the very mount 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



427 



I on which the Almighty descended was consecrated from its 
summit to the base ; no man or beast dare at the peril of life 
intrude within those consecrated limits ; and even Moses, as he 
stood amidst the agitated elements, and upon the burning 
mount where the Lord himself came down with the myriads 
of his holy ones, exclaimed : "I do exceedingly quake and 
tremble." After the building of the temple, the Holy of Holies 
was closed throughout the year, and the visible symbol of 
God's presence there could only be approached after the most 
solemn preparation, and with the most august and imposing 
( ceremonies by the high-priest of God; and the misguided 
Israelite who, in hasty zeal, put forth his hand irreverently to 
support the Ark, was smitten dead upon the spot. Well might 
the Apostle urge us, in view of these indications of a jealous 
God, to " serve God with reverence and godly fear, for our 
God is a consuming fire." But if the ministry of condemna- 
tion Avas glorious, how much more the ministry of salvation. 
These were all but the shadows of which Christ is the sub- 
stance ; and if the ministry and ordinances of that imperfect 
dispensation were guarded with such watchful jealousy, en- 
circled with such awful sanctity, avenged with such terrific 
retributions, what shall we say of that better covenant of 
which Christ was at once the author and the object, the 
victim and the priest, the minister and Lord ! How awful 
its dignity ! How solemn its ordinances ! How sacred 
its instructions ! How elevated its hopes ! How pre- 
cious its consolations ! How august its revelations ! For 
the Gospel is a message directly from the throne of 
Heaven ; and every minister of the Gospel, called and 
sent of God, is an ambassador for Christ. He stands a 
dying man between the living God and a world of dying- 
men. Himself a sinner saved by grace, he stands between 
a Holy God and a world of sinners. Himself at best a 
pardoned rebel, he stands between an offended God and a 
world of rebels in open revolt against his government — abus- 
ing his mercy, insulting his majesty, defying his omnipotent 
justice. How momentous are the subjects to be discussed, 



428 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



how vast are the interests involved, how solemn the respon- 
sibilities incurred — solemn as the issues of the Judgment, vast 
as the value of the soul, and durable as its long and intermi- 
nable existence ! Were the thrones of all earthly empires piled 
high, each above the other, and all earthly crowns blended 
into one diadem of glory, these accumulated thrones would 
not reach to heaven ; and what were that radiant diadem, 
when compared with the glory that encircles the brow of one 
immortal spirit amongst the millions of the saved ? And were 
all the earthly interests of all the nations concentrated in one 
single person, how insignificant would all appear when weighed 
in the balances of the sanctuary, and calculated by the arith- 
metic of heaven, and measured by the duration of eternity ! 
But the message which he bears is the message of a Saviour's 
love, the same which the angels came to herald, which the 
Lord of angels came to bear, which fell from his own heavenly 
lips, and beamed from his own countenance of radiant love, and 
was embodied in his own mysterious person, and gushed from 
his own bleeding bosom and bursting heart — a story of infinite 
pity, and infinite woe, of avenging justice and redeeming 
mercy. For, blessed be God that our ministry is a ministry 
of reconciliation, and not of condemnation ; that the message 
we bear is one of unutterable love ; that the burden of our 
proclamation still must be love, amazing, boundless, un- 
fathomable love. "For God so loved the world that 
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believ- 
eth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life." 
God was not only willing to be reconciled, but willing to pay 
the price of reconciliation too. AYhen there was no eye to 
pity, and no arm to save, he was willing both to pity and to 
save the perishing. 

Man brought ruin on himself by rebelling against God — 
man the enemy of God, and thus God made the enemy of 
man — a creature of clay arrayed against the Omnipotent, and 
thus God arrayed against him. The heavens clothed in black- 
ness, the earth quaking in terror, conscience pealing in thunder- 
tones, and perdition gaping to engulf him — who is the sinner's 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 429 

stay ? Cannot mercy plead ? Can no angel intercede ? Be- 
hold, there is help laid on One mighty to save. 

He comes in the humility of man and the majesty of God. 
The arm uplifted to destroy us has fallen upon him. The 
sword, brandished and blazing above us, is bathed in his own 
blood ; still are those arms outspread ; that heart still beats 
with love; and we are commissioned to pray, to entreat, to 
exhaust all argument, and to do so in the name of God, in 
the name of Christ, by all that is terrible or precious in heaven 
or hell. Well might we tremble, when we put forth the hand 
to the Ark, lest we perish by the touch. Well might we 
shrink back from this solemn and sacred trust, but we dare 
not ; by our solemn vows, we dare not decline it or be dis- 
mayed. The Gospel is mighty through God, and the demon- 
stration of his spirit and power. Standing, then, as the rep- 
resentative of the Saviour upon earth, speaking in his great 
name and by his high authority, moving habitually amidst 
these scenes of tenderness and grandeur; how important that 
the minister of Christ be a man of God, imbued with the 
spirit and bearing the image of his Saviour ! 

IL The Gospel we have to preach is not an ingenious specu- 
lation, or plausible theory, or magnificent hypothesis, lending 
a portion of its own dazzling brilliancy to heighten the splen- 
dors of some rhetorical display ; but a fact, a solemn and an 
awful fact ; a sublime and glorious reality, wide as the world 
in which we live and universal as the race of man ; pervad- 
ing all human relations, involving all human interests, reach- 
ing upward to the throne of God, and downward to the depths 
of perdition, and onward through an immeasurable eternity, 
and in the wide sweep of its large and manifold relations, 
linking the destiny of man with all that is loftiest in, the char- 
acter and most stupendous in the energies of superhuman 
powers — the celestial sympathy of angels, the satanic malig- 
nity of fiends. It is a fact so vast in the range of its illimitable 
consequences, so appalling or so glorious in its necessary in- 
fluences upon human destiny, so clear in the evidence of its 
indubitable certainty, so intimately blended with the whole 



430 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



tissue of our past and future history, that in comparison with 
it, all other facts are dim and vague and shadowy and insig- : sc 
nificant. It is the fact of facts, the great fact in each man's t 
history. That is no dream of the visionary enthusiast — the I ii 
ruin of our race; but an awful fact, loudly proclaimed by \ 
every human conscience, faithfully re-echoed by every known 
tradition, broadly and palpably recorded upon every page of 
history, and distinctly visible upon the face of human society 1 ! 
itself — visible even in those scattered traces of beauty and of J 1 
grandeur which remain amid the ruins they cannot remedy ; 
as we recognize the site of long-lost cities and demolished 
temples by the shattered remains of arches and columns and 
statues peeping irregularly forth from amidst the rubbish that 
entombs them. And the redemption of our race — is not this 
a blessed reality ? which, chronicled amidst the annals of the 
sky, has already peopled heaven with millions of inhabitants, 
and is even now enjoyed in its felt and palpable reality as a 
living, present, actual salvation by millions of redeemed sin- 
ners upon earth ? And all the solemn verities of our Gospel 
— are they not stupendous facts, that encompass us on every 
side, and overshadow with a serene and heavenly awe our 
whole earthly being? Truly, the realities of our existence 
surpass the prodigies of fiction. We live amidst a scene of 
wonders. Is not there the broad heaven, spread out above us 
in serene and solemn grandeur, with its millions of peopled 
worlds looking down silently upon us? And are there not 
here millions of immortal spirits around us moulding at this 
very hour their everlasting destinies ? Is not our eternity al- 
ready begun ? Behold, all around is immensity, infinity, eter- 
nity. Above us are incalculable heights ; beneath us unfath- 
omable depths. Around us is vast infinity ; behind us eter- 
nity past ; before us eternity to come. Within us are bound- 
less capacities for joy or woe ; while ever present with us, 
encompassing all our ways, pervading our whole being, source 
of every blessing, and witness to every act and thought and 
feeling, is the silent and awful majesty of God. Such is the 
grandeur and such the sublime mystery of our condition here. 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



431 



But he who would bring home these great truths to the con- 
science and practical conviction of another, must know them 
not only as a speculation, but must have felt them as a fact, 
in his own inward experience, as the great fact of his own 
history; must know them as the one central fact of human 
existence and human destiny, around which all others do obe- 
diently range themselves, to which all others are subordinate, 
and from which they all derive their only true significance. 
Hence, in all ages of the world, from St. Paul to Augustine, 
from Augustine to Luther, and onward to Bunyan and Baxter, 
and down to our own days, the men who have been honored 
of God to stamp deep upon their generation the impression 
of these truths, have borne about with them, in their own 
persons, the experimental realization of them ; have known 
from inward experience the sad and sublime reality of things; 
have gazed with steady earnestness into the fires of perdition, 
till all human tortures were indifferent ; and roved amidst 
the delights of paradise till all earthly splendor was insignifi- 
cant; who have themselves, in the secrecy of their own 
bosoms, grappled in deadly conflict with the powers of dark- 
ness ; and, issuing from the closet to the pulpit, fresji from 
these high and solemn meditations, victorious from amidst 
these terrific struggles, they have uttered words of exhorta- 
tion which have been like a voice from heaven — their tones 
of warning or denunciation sounding like the trump of God. 
In the days of Whitfield a comedy was prepared, in which 
the doctrines and manner of this great prophet of his age 
were held up to public ridicule. Garrick was selected to rep- 
resent the distinguished preacher. But this extraordinary 
man, accustomed to study the character he was about to rep- 
resent, that he might sympathize with all his feelings, and 
reproduce a living similitude of the man he was to personate, 
entered with such enthusiasm into the spirit of this new hero 
of the drama, that he stood before them with all the grandeur 
and solemnity of a herald of the skies ; the whole assembly 
was bathed in tears, and for once the theatre was converted 
into a place of penitence and prayer. When asked by a 



432 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



minister of the Gospel where lay the secret of his power, he 
replied with keen yet instructive severity : " We speak fiction 
as if it were truth, you speak truth as if it were the idlest 
fiction." May none of you, my young brethren, ever stand 
up in the sacred pulpit and drawl out with dull and lifeless in- 
sipidity, truths which inspire the songs of angels, and shall 
swell the raptures of eternity. 

III. But again, these great facts, when expressed in lan- 
guage, and classified according to their mutual relations, con- 
stitute a grand system of doctrines, complete and harmonious, 
in which each truth occupies its appropriate place, and pre- 
supposes by a logical necessity all the rest, while each upon 
each reciprocally sheds additional illumination. " There is 
scarcely a bone," says Cuvier, the great naturalist, when 
speaking of the admirable harmony that pervades the animal 
economy, " there is scarcely a bone that can vary in its sur- 
faces, in its curvatures, or in its protuberances, without a cor- 
respondent variation in all the rest," so that a skilful natural- 
ist, from the appearance of a single bone, will often be able to 
determine the form of the whole skeleton to which it belonged. 
And the reason is obvious, because each must be adapted to 
those which are adjacent, and these to others still more re- 
mote, even to the extremities of the system, while all must 
harmoniously co-operate with one common object — the exist- 
ence and welfare of the animal. Now it is even thus with the 
great system of Christian doctrines ; each is adapted to others ; 
all spring from one common source, and tend with harmonious 
precision towards one common centre — the cross of Christ and 
justification through faith in the great atoneme it there. And 
here, too, the scientific theologian can often easily descry 
in the minutest fragment of some remote or ha^-developed 
dogma, the whole large outline and full proportions of the com- 
ing error ; with all its habitudes and tendencies, its bold protu- 
berances towards open heresy, its gentle inclinations towards 
secret error, and all the graceful curvatures of an insidious and 
plausible theology. Thus, though but a single paw was ex- 
hibited at first — and that with studious caution and economic- 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



433 



al reserve — of that great "Beast of Babylon" of heterogene- 
ous elements, half iron and half clay, which now moves 

I rampant over the nations; yet did the wise men of England 
and of America at once proclaim his origin, character, and 
habits; confidently predict his growth and gradual develop- 
ment; and actually project, with photographic accuracy, a 
perfect delineation of the full-grown monster. Or, to drop the 

I metaphor, the wisest and best of English and American 
bishops perceived at once, that Puseyism was essential Popery ; 
that they who began by rejecting God's method of justifica- 
tion by faith in the blood of Christ, and substituting in its 
stead fasting and penances and such like human mummeries, 
must substitute the fathers for God's word ; the authority of 
the church for the- free exercise of private judgment; im- 
plicit faith for the manly exercise of reason ; and having thus 
at once yielded up reason and revelation, must terminate in 
papal infallibility, tran substantiation, and the idolatrous wor- 
ship of the saints and the immaculate Virgin Mary. 

IV. But, as we have remarked before, the whole system of 
Gospel truth, with all its separate parts, tends towards one 
common object, and revolves around one common centre, that 
centre Christ. And just as of old the planets of our system 
gathered in high conjunction at his birth, and stood with mute 
homage and blended radiance above his cradle, even so do the 
several doctrines of his Word cluster with instinctive sympathy 
around the cross, and pour their combined effulgence there. 
Hence, the cross of Christ, and the great propitiation offered 
there, must be the theme of the Christian minister. But how 
can he preach an unknown Saviour ? How lead to a cross 
whose efficacy he has never experienced ? How even com- 
prehend a system of truth, whose simplest elements have no 
place in his own inward experiences ? Hence the necessity of 
a truly converted and spiritually minded ministry. Because 
only such a ministry can comprehend, or long outwardly 
maintain the fundamental doctrine of the Gospel — justification 
through faith in the Redeemer of lost sinners. 

There was a tradition Jong prevalent in Scotland, and b^- 
19 



434 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



lieved by many still, that when the great leader of his people, 
Wallace, had departed, his head was left behind, reserved for 
some future day of desperate emergency, with the assurance 
that, in the very crisis of his country's destiny — when her 
fainting battalions were just ready to recede, and the onset 
was most furious and desperate — then whoever should cast this 
venerated head amidst the advancing columns of her foes, 
with him should rest the victory. And the tradition tells us 
that on such a well-contested battle-field, when victory seemed 
already perching on the banners of the foe, and all was given 
up for lost, the chieftain to whom this precious relic had been 
confided, lifted high in view of the contending armies this 
immortal brow — signal of assured victory to friends, omen of 
terrible defeat to foes — and casting it far amidst the ranks of 
the hostile forces, dashed onward to the conflict. The enemy 
stood all aghast. From battalion to battalion, along the line 
of Scotland's forces, flashed the electric joy. The old battle- 
cry of Scotland and Wallace rang through the ranks ; and 
like chaff before the whirlwind of their native mountains, was 
swept the invading army. Their dead leader gained for them 
a living victory. The verities of our Gospel are not tradition. 
The weapons of our warfare are not carnal; the Captain of 
our salvation is not dead, but liveth. And may we not say to 
you, who are soon to march forth to the battle of the world — 
and urge upon ourselves — that in our sorest conflicts with 
principalities and powers — when all earthly weapons of finest 
temper, of brightest polish, and of keenest edge, prove un- 
availing — with him shall be the victory who shall lift highest 
in the view of contending hosts, and bear most boldly forward 
in the front of battle, and farthest onward amidst the advanc- 
ing battalions of our foes, the image of our living, though 
crucified Redeemer. The Cross ! the Cross ! — let this be our 
watchword amidst the darkness of the night. The Cross ! the 
Cross ! — be this our battle-cry when we advance to the charge, 
and upon the banner that waves above the sacramental host of 
God's elect, alike amidst disaster and success, whether it float 
iu enduring triumph, or droop in apparent and transient de- 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



435 



feat, let there be inscribed all over in characters of living 
light, the Cross, the Cross of our crucified and exalted Lord 
and Saviour. Christ and his cross be all our theme, though 
"the victories we speak be folly in the Jews' esteem, and mad- 
ness to the Greek." And be assured that in that day of trial 
and of conflict which lies just before ns — to which the many- 
tongued voices all around do summon God's own people; that 
crisis of the world's destiny now near at hand, in which the 
embattled powers of good and evil shall struggle together for 
the final victory ; that day of coming darkness when the faint- 
hearted and the false shall flee, and for which each leader that 
is boldest in God's sacramental host is girding on his armor, 
his sword, his helmet, his battle-axe and shield, the weapons 
of offensive and defensive warfare all burnished for the con- 
test — in that great day of terror in the valley of decision, the 
church beneath this banner shall be victorious ; nay, to use the 
language of the Saviour himself when speaking of his advent, 
" shall be like the lightning which lighteneth out of the one 
part under heaven, and shineth unto the other part under 
heaven," and nothing can stay the course thereof. Like that 
lightning in its course, so radiant in its glory, so irresistible in 
its progress, pervading all that is homogeneous, shattering all 
that dare oppose, and speaking to all the world in the same 
tones of imperial majesty, shall move onward, conquering and 
to conquer, the doctrine of the cross, and of him who hung 
there in his agony and love. 

This leads us to remark that we need an energetic ministry. 
There is a mild and meditative piety, a refined and literary 
piety, a subtle and speculative piety, and all this may answer 
in its place, may serve the individual purposes and save the 
individual soul. But for the conversion and salvation of the 
world we need a living, active, energetic piety. A man may 
do orood service in the battle of the world, whether he <ro forth 
armed with spear or battle-axe, broad-sword or scimetar. We 
care not how bright the polish of your weapon, if only the 
edge be keen and the metal steel. You may stud the hilt 
with diamonds, or emboss it with gold of priceless value and 



436 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



solid workmanship, but let not the blade be rusted nor 
wreathe the point with flowers, and let it be wielded ever with 
an arm of vigor, impelled by a heart of fire. 

V. But let us consider, in conclusion, the difficulties and 
dangers of the office. Every situation has its peculiar advan- 
tages and pleasures, as well as 'its difficulties and dangers. 
The ministry has its own pleasures and also its difficulties. I 
speak not of what the minister has in common with other 
Christians, but of those peculiar to his situation. His work 
is vast ; the opposition to the great object of his life is con- 
stant, inveterate, and combined ; and if apparent success for 
a time crown his efforts, still danger comes — the world flatters 
to mislead, seduce, and destroy. It is easy to produce super- 
ficial external changes. It is easy to mould the features to a 
smile, tune the voice to tenderness, and discipline the limbs to 
graceful motions; too easy, as is obvious to any one who has 
only glanced at the society, stupidly miscalled refined, to polish 
the exterior, while corruption is festering at the core. It is 
comparatively easy to imbue the mind with a moderate share 
of knowledge, and so regulate the appetite and passions and 
conduct as to lead a quiet and respectable life. This is the 
end of philosophy; but religion aims at something far more 
difficult and important — at nothing less than a radical and 
fundamental change in the whole character of the man. She 
announces this as her bold design — to renovate the individual 
and revolutionize society, to implant new principles in the 
human character, infuse new elements into human feeling and 
conduct ; not to garnish the old sepulchre, but to erect a new 
temple to the Lord; not an improvement, but a new creation. 
Philosophy, of human origin, adapts itself to human tastes, 
prejudices, weaknesses, even in her efforts to do good. The 
weapons of her warfare are earthly, and while assaulting one 
passion, she seeks to strengthen herself by alliance with an- 
other; thus strengthening the principle of all sin, while she 
resists the individual practice, and only invigorating the root, 
while she lops the branches. Religion, divine in origin, is 
universal in her requirements. Holiness is written on her 



THE MINISTRY OF THE GOSPEL. 



4.37 



banner, and she can make no terms with sin in its inward 
principles or outward developments. Hence a minister, if 
faithful, must arouse opposition, extensive and inveterate ; the 
world, the flesh, and the devil must be arrayed against him. 
For he goes forth amongst his fellow-men the avowed enemy 
of all they love most dearly — waging war against sin, against 
oil sin, however ingeniously veiled, or gracefully decked ; 
however plausibly defended, consecrated by custom, supported 
by interest, or recommended by fashion. Against sin, from 
the cottage to the throne, he must wage a Avar of extermina- 
tion. Nay, if one sin be more widely prevalent, more securely 
intrenched, more extensively ruinous than all beside, against 
this, though power should protect it, and eloquence plead for 
it, and wealth and talent and genius and learning and popular 
admiration unite to encircle it with splendor, must the ana- 
themas of the Gospel be boldly thundered forth. The sin of 
Herod must not go unrebuked though a dungeon and the axe 
be John's reward. 



XXVI. 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



Luke xi. 24-26. — "When the unclean spirit is gone'out of a man, he walk- 
eth through dry places, seeking rest : and finding none, he saith, I will return 
unto my house whence I came out. 

" And when he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished. 

"Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more wicked than 
himself ; and they enter in, and dwell there : and the last state of that man 
is worse than the first." 



We shall not attempt to discuss any of the numerous ques- 
tions which might be legitimately" raised in regard to demoni- 
acal possessions. That spirit should operate on spirit, is truly 
not more mysterious than that matter should operate on 
matter. The mode in which they operate and the nature of 
the connection between them we do not know; in either 
the fact is equally manifest, and equally intelligible in both. 
That spirit should operate on spirit without the intervention 
of bodily organization, is not more wonderful than that 
matter should operate on matter without the intermediate 
agency of spirit. Nay, that an immaterial spirit should 
operate upon the soul of man, spirit directly upon spirit 
without the aid of bodily organs, is not more mysterious but 
less, than that it should operate through the instrumentality of 
this material frame : for when you introduce the bodily organi- 
zations you have complicated the process instead of simpli- 
fying it. You have removed the mysterious phenomena to a 
greater distance, separated them by a wider interval, and inter- 
posed new links of connection in the successive series. But 
each of these material links itself involves a new mystery, and 
you have multiplied the mystery, instead of solving it. 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



439 



Before, it was spirit operating upon spirit, like upon like. 
Now, it is spirit operating upon matter, and this upon other 
matter, until at last, by this circuitous process, every step of 
which involves a peculiar mystery of its own, one spirit is 
brought indirectly and mediately into communication with 
another. As in speecli the organs are moved by the will, the 
air by the organs, the tympanum of the ear by vibration of 
the air, the auditory nerve is ultimately reached through the 
complicated apparatus; this communicates with the brain, and 
thus at last the mind is reached. The true difficulty is — and 
the whole history of human speculation through all ages 
proves that it has been deeply felt as the real and almost in- 
superable difficulty — not that spirit should communicate 
immediately with spirit, like with like, but that an immaterial 
soul should be at all connected with a material body, and 
should employ its organs as a medium of communication 
with other spirits. Like with like, body with body, spirit 
with spirit, in direct and reciprocal interaction, seems to be the 
natural spontaneous universal judgment of man. 

Now, whatever may be the difficulties which an ingenious 
and subtle speculation may imagine or perceive, yet the fact 
is distinctly, repeatedly, solemnly proclaimed by Scripture ; 
and all experience and all reason yield their loud and unani- 
mous assent in confirmation of the fact, that the origin of 
evil is not on earth ; that it lies beyond the sphere of human 
agency, as beyond the grasp of human speculation ; that 
besides the human spirits on the earth, invisible to us — as 
truly and totally invisible as the powers of the unseen world 
(for who ever saw a spirit ?) — there is another spirit, a dark 
power of evil, that walks abroad upon the earth with his con- 
federate band of foul deceivers; that has intimate access to 
the human spirit ; that rouses the dormant passions, blows to 
a flame the latent sparks of lust ; that with devilish skill enters 
at each avenue of the heart of man, seizes each element of 
his fallen nature, and wields it for his ruin. He throws around 
all forbidden things a brilliancy of fascination, an enchanting 
witchery that dazzles the imagination, bewilders the under- 



440 



INFLUENCE OF EYIL SPIRITS. 



standing, captivates the taste, and seduces the affections, until 
the voice of experience, of reason, of conscience, is unheard, 
and the whole machinery of his intellectual and moral being 
is unhinged. Amidst the tumultuous uproar of all the insur- 
gent passions, amidst the wild war of the chaotic and jarring 
elements within him, reason is dethroned, conscience stifled, 
the will itself paralyzed, and the unhappy man, mastered by 
some strange and foreign power, is dragged at first reluc- 
tantly along, half conscious of the hellish agency that im- 
pels him, and struggling from time to time with spasmodic 
violence to be free. Then he yields himself a willing captive, 
blends his own perverted energies and his eternal destinies 
with those of the powers of darkness, and sweeps on madly 
exulting before the tempest of his passions; like the spectre- 
ship which the poet has described, the wildest and most terri- 
ble creation of human genius, which swept proudly careering 
on amidst the fury of the elements, above the billows and before 
the storm, beneath the broad light of day, and the solemn 
stillness of the starry night, urged furiously forward by demon 
powers. 

At the period of our Saviour's appearance, it is known that 
the dominion of this power of evil had become almost univer- 
sal. The insurrection against God and his government, 
which seemed destined to achieve a speedy, final, and decisive 
triumph, had penetrated every department of thought and 
effort. Over every institution, political, social, religious; over 
every class of human society, every relation of human life 
public or private, men's private actions or retired speculations ; 
over all men's passions, affections, reasonings, this power exer- 
cised an omnipresent and omnipotent sway. Philosophy, in 
open and avowed revolt, denied the existence of a God and 
the immortality of the soul, the fundamental principles of 
morals, and, in the spirit of a haughty and stoical indifference 
threw itself over on the doctrine of a gloomy Pantheism; 
of laws of nature moving on forever under the guidance of 
a blind, crushing, inexorable necessity. The masses bowed 
down before gods of wood or stone, which their own hands 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



441 



had made, or deified the worst appetites and passions of our 
fallen nature. There is scarcely a brutal appetite that degrades 
our nature, or a fiendish passion that heats the blood or 
maddens the brain of man, that had not its temple, its altar, 
its worshipper; to these did the sculptor, the painter, the poet 
consecrate the noblest productions of their art ; and thus were 
the most splendid efforts of human genius made to give a 
brilliancy and a glory to the basest of human passions ; and 
over the whole broad domain of human society, in action and 
in thought, in philosophy, poetry, art, in ordinary life, the 
Prince of darkness reigned ubiquitous, with supreme control. 

It was from the spirit and- perhaps through the spirit that 
this influence reached the body. The inward ruin became 
outwardly visible ; it was the total wreck of body and of spirit, 
so completely overmastered by the evil that the feeling of in- 
dividual identity was lost. He was another, and yet the same ; 
one, yet many; seven devils, and then, as the fragments of a 
shattered intellect multiplied variously the reflection of his 
consciousness, he was legion. They foamed, they rolled on 
the ground, they wandered in dismal solitudes, and shunned 
the abodes of men ; amidst the tombs of the dead they lurked 
by day, and issued forth at night ferocious, untameable ; with 
superhuman strength they tore away the bars of the prison- 
house, and burst the fetters that bound them. In such a state 
of things, when Satan had gained such absolute and universal 
control; when all human appliances were unavailing; when 
philosophy, literature, government, society had been subju- 
gated and corrupted by his influence, and the few who re- 
tained some remains of sanity looked wildly around in despair 
upon the universal and hopeless ruin, it was manifest that some 
higher power was needed to prevent the total disorganization 
of society. The cry of the Syrophenician woman, when all 
that was sweetest, and dearest, and loveliest, and purest at her 
own domestic hearth was thus polluted, became but the echo 
of the universal voice of man : "Lord, have mercy on me, for 
my daughter is grievously tormented by the devil." 

Now the miracles of our Saviour, as the doctrines which he 
19* 



442 



INFLUENCE OF ETIL SPIRITS. 



taught and the sufferings he endured, had a reference far be- 
yond the occasion on which they were performed. In each of 
the diseases which he healed, there is a striking and probably 
a designed analogy, which spontaneously leads us from the 
physician of the body to the physician of the soul, from the 
outward disease to the inward malady of sin. In healing 
each he proclaims his power over the inward disease of sin, 
and when he cast out devils, and healed those most malignant 
forms of madness where Satan seemed enthroned in absolute 
supremacy amidst the total wreck of man's intellectual and 
moral nature, he vindicates his sovereignty over Satanic power 
in all its forms, and teaches a solemn lesson for all coming gen- 
erations. When he opens the blind eye, he points us to the 
spiritual blindness of our fallen nature. When he heals the 
leper, he refers to the foul and contagious leprosy of sin ; 
and when the demon is cast forth from the raving and 
foaming maniac, we spontaneously turn to society around, 
and behold with saddened hearts the exact and fearful parallel 
in the history of those who, in their hot pursuit of worldly 
pleasure, or worldly gain, or worldly honor, renounce all the 
principles of reason, disregard the lessons of experience and 
the warnings of conscience, insult the majesty and defy the 
omnipotence of God, drive a fearful traffic with the prince of 
darkness, and barter away an immortality of bliss for the illu- 
sive promise of a few transient and uncertain enjoyments. 
They summon every faculty to its highest exercise, and string 
every nerve to its intensest tension, for some perishable good; 
are shrewd, keen, alert, far-seeing in all that relates to their 
worldly interests ; but for eternity, and all that it contains of 
vast and tremendous import to an immortal spirit, are the 
veriest madmen. 

In pursuing the parallel, we remark first, in respect to the 
ordinary madman, that the first symptom of his madness is a 
strange delusion about himself, a total misconception of his 
character, his position, and his relations to all around. He 
imagines that he is some mighty potentate, lord of the earth ; 
or, stretching his wide domain still farther, is emperor of the 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



443 



moon. His narrow cell is an imperial palace, his wooden stool 
a throne of majesty, his little rod a sceptre of royal power. 
The scraps of tattered finery hung around his brow are a 
prince's diadem, and the filthy rags that are gathered about 
his emaciated frame are a robe of imperial purple. He assumes 
the air and attitude of kings, and all around are but the mem- 
bers of his court, attendants on his person, subject to his au- 
thority, and await in mute awe and reverence his high com- 
mands. He is rich ; the wealth of nations flows into his trea- 
sury; the gold of India and California fills his coffers. He is 
free, though he cannot move without the permission of his 
keeper, though his keeper's eye follows him at every step, and 
the stroke of his keeper's rod startles him again and again 
from his dream of folly ; and when the night comes on with 
its deepening shadows, he is stripped of his robes of royalty, 
and locked in his dark cell, a naked madman, to rave in impo- 
tent fury as he dashes himself in vain against its bars of iron 
and its solid masonry. 

Xow, there is something absurdly ludicrous in this delusion 
of this ordinary madman, but the madness of every sinner is 
precisely parallel. He, too, is the prey of a similar illusion in 
relation to himself. He dreams that he is free and independ- 
ent, yet can he not move without the permission, nay with- 
out the sustaining power and goodness, of God. He stalks 
abroad with lofty step and regal air and heart of pride, as if 
he were Lord of this lower world ; yet the great eye of God 
is fixed in blazing majesty and consuming wrath upon him, 
and the great arm of God is lifted high, though unseen by him, 
for chastisement or vengeance, and ever and anon the strokes 
fall thick and fast and heavy ; the startled sinner wakes for a 
moment from his dream of maniac folly, implores with many 
cries and tears forgiveness, and relapses and promises amend- 
ment, till at last the night of death comes on, the deep dark 
shadows of an undone eternity gather around his soul. Each 
shred and patch and shattered fragment of that mock righteous- 
ness in which he has arrayed himself, to hide the dark pollu- 
tions of a guilty heart, and cherish the illusions which lie 



414 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



loved, is stripped from liis trembling and naked spirit ; the 
gloomy cell is ready to receive him ; the heavy doors of that 
dark prison-house grate harsh thunder as they close forever on 
the imprisoned soul. The night of eternity rolls on ; slowly, 
darkly, heavily, sadly, the night of eternity rolls on. No 
morning light shall beam upon that darkness. No ray of 
hope shall gild that black despair. No Lazarus shall fly with 
winged speed on angel-pinions from the courts -above to give 
one drop of water to cool the parched tongue. No voice of 
man or angel shall proclaim the wonders of redeeming love. 
There is no cross in hell ; no Saviour there. Madman, look 
round upon the prison-house, its gloomy walls, its caverns 
dark and deep, its fiery billows as they surge and boil and 
flash around thee. Hear the shriek of agony, the groan of 
horror, the curse of blasphemy, the wail of despair. Was it 
for this that you despised the sweet voice of mercy, rejected 
a Saviour's love, stifled conscience, grieved God's spirit, and re- 
strained prayer? 

But again, the sinner, too, thinks that he is rich — rich in all 
moral excellence. He hangs around his brows the tattered 
soiled fragments of some old cast-oft" heathen morality, and 
mounts a lofty pedestal, and thinks himself pre-eminent 
amongst his fellows in every attribute that should grace and 
dignify a man. You shall believe he is a man of principle, 
while he is the slave of sin, the very bond-slave of every 
beastly appetite and devilish passion. A man of principle ! 
And yet there is not a tie so sacred or so tender, not an inter- 
est so paramount or dear, not a duty so solemn or so urgent, 
that is not sacrificed at the call of inclination ; not a principle 
so firm that is not swept away by the strong impulse of mo- 
mentary passion. There is not one duty to God or man which 
he has not violated in its true and deepest meaning. The very 
first of all those duties, and the basis of all the rest, he wholly 
and habitually disregards — his duty to the great Creator. 
There is no fear of God before his eyes, no love of God in his 
heart, no thought of God in his mind, no service of God in 
his life ; and if the idea of God were blotted out from his un- 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



445 



ders tan ding, and the name of God erased from his memory, as 
the thought of God is banished from his habitual reflections, 
and the service of God from the Avhole current of his daily 
life, there would be no darker shadow over his soul, no drearier, 
blanker atheism would shroud in its midnight blackness the 
utter desolation of his whole moral being. He does not even 
give to God the homage of a passing thought. God is to him 
but the madman's keeper. And yet the madman still cherishes 
the vain delusion that he believes in God, has a profound rev- 
erence for God, will never meet that God in vengeance and in 
judgment. 

He is generous, noble, manly ! Fine words are these, my 
friends, and full of lofty sound. But let us see. He is gen- 
erous and manly, the very soul of honor! Yet he has be- 
trayed the confidence that was reposed in him — the tender, 
generous, confiding love, the purest, truest, holiest on earth, 
which after many a broken promise still strives to trust, and, 
smiling through its tears, says with the parting kiss crowned 
with a mother's blessing, Remember, son, your promise when 
temptations come, and evil companions would seduce, remem- 
ber your mother's Bible and your mother's God. Remember, 
son, remember ! He is generous ! And yet he can pierce with 
a pang bitterer than death that heart that for many a year 
has longed and yearned and prayed only for him, that lives 
only in his life ; and in the long vista of future years can see 
no prospect to delight which is not brightened by the thought 
of an honorable and virtuous manhood for her cherished boy. 
Generous, manly ! Yet he can bring down those gray hairs 
with sorrow to the grave ; crush the only hope that could 
cheer amidst the infirmities of advancing life, and make the 
grave itself a welcome refuge from a mother's untold anguish, 
and a mother's shame. Surely he is generous, my friends, or 
is it only the delusion of a madman ? 

But he is a gentleman, at least, of untarnished character, and 
with all the virtues that adorn and grace that honorable appel- 
lation. A gentleman ! And yet you shall see him wallow in 
shameless, beastly intoxication. Are the stupidity of an ass, 



446 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



and the foulness of swine, the peculiar and distinguishing 
characteristics of a gentleman ? Surely the man is mad ; an 
unclean devil has taken possession of him in body and in 
spirit. He is the same which entered into the service of old, 
and we have no reason to believe that they were either im- 
proved or pleased by his society. His name is legion, for lie 
never comes alone. He is a social devil, and hosts of others 
follow in his train. They swarm in by every open avenue, 
creep slyly in through every crevice of the heart, storm and 
strongly garrison the citadel, then take possession of the 
whole. There is not an apartment of the soul which they 
will not occupy, no secret chamber, no dark nook or corner 
where foul vermin lurk unseen, but they will seize and render 
it tenfold fouler. They will seize the imagination and the 
reasoning power, rouse every passion, stimulate every appe- 
tite, take possession of body and spirit, and pervert every or- 
gan and every faculty, eye, ear, tongue, to their devilish pur- 
poses. The tongue is, according to the Psalmist, the glory of 
a man, the distinguishing 'characteristic between men and 
brutes. Yet go to his private apartment, hear his familiar 
conversation ; obscenity and blasphemy form the whole staple 
of his talk. An unclean devil guides the swift tongue, and 
whets the prurient appetite, and quickens the eager ear. The 
maniac's laugh responds to the madman's filthy jest. The 
very air around him reeks with blasphemous obscenity, is pes- 
tilential, putrid. He soils the ground on which he treads; pol- 
lutes the atmosphere he breathes ; there is contagion in his 
touch. In his presence and society every pure and generous 
and noble sentiment withers and dies, and the wise and good 
who would seek to save him, turn away at last in sadness and 
with loathing. 

Another characteristic of the ordinary madman, is the abso- 
lute subversion of all the rational principles of human action, 
the total incapacity to appreciate the real importance, or esti- 
mate the relative value of things. With him the great and 
the small have changed places. The merest trifles swell into 
huge proportions, and excite the most profound emotion ; while 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



447 



the most momentous interests, so vast that the human mind 
recoils in the attempt to grasp them, dwindle into insignifi- 
cance. He laughs with maniac merriment where others weep ; 
he weeps in bitter agony, and will not be consoled, where 
others would not even deign to smile. For all that interests 
the healthy mind of man, and arouses it to action, he feels the 
profoundest indifference. For the great living world of actual 
and palpable realities all around him, with its interests, its 
activities, its conflicts, and its destiny, he feels no sympathy. 
The wild and fantastic hallucinations of his own distempered 
brain are to him the only realities. Around him, on every side, 
the vast machinery of human society is moving on, the hum of 
human business, the conflicts of human interest, the agitation 
of human passions. Revolution after revolution may shake 
the globe. The freedom of nations, the welfare of the race, 
the .salvation of a world, may be hanging in suspense, or 
hurrying on to a decisive issue. Yet what is all this to him ? 
He stoops to gather the pebbles at his feet, and piles the straws 
around him into stately palaces where kings might be proud to 
dwell. His loud laugh rings in peals of gleeful merriment 
What is it for ? He points to the mimic structure which has 
grown so magnificent beneath his skill. He sobs in irrepressible 
anguish. Why ? An insect's wing, or a puff of air, has lev- 
elled his gorgeous building with the earth. Large possessions 
may be his, and wide connections, a home of purity and love 
where each gentle and generous affection is lavished upon him 
and noble hearts are wrung with anguish at each symptom of 
his madness. Stupendous interests may depend upon his con- 
duct, bright may have been the promise of his early youth, 
and fond the hopes that cluster around him still. Yet what 
are all these to him ? He disregards all, he spurns all, 
barters all, sacrifices all, to the merest trifle. Vain is 
each appeal to reason, to conscience, or affection. All that 
is most solemn, most tender, or most sacred, is matter of 
dead indifference, or brutal merriment, or fierce resent- 
ment, or demon hate. He is startled sometimes for a mo- 
ment from his dream of folly; gazes eagerly around as 



448 



INFLUENCE OE EVIL SPIRITS. 



one bewildered by some strange and sudden recollection of 
scenes long forgotten ; gleams of half-intelligence flit across 
his countenance like sunbeams struggling through the riven 
thunder-cloud. We almost hope, we pray, we shudder, as we 
watch that changing countenance ; the blackness and the 
tempest gather around the soul in deeper and more impene- 
trable gloom — the deepening shadow of a long and last total 
eclipse. 

And have we not often seen the sinner even thus, when, 
startled by some solemn visitation from on high, or aroused 
from his life-long dream of sin by some peal of terrific denun- 
ciation from God's word, he gazes bewildered and terrified 
around upon the new realities that meet his astonished vision ; 
wonders at the illusive shadows that had so long misled and 
mocked him; and the world recedes from his view, and eternity 
in all its terrific grandeur stands palpably out before him, 
until God, death, and immortality, a coming judgment, an 
undone eternity, a bleeding Saviour, and an interceding Spirit, 
are in all the universe the only realities for him ? Oh ! the keen 
agony of that anxious suspense, when an immortal spirit seems 
just awakening to a new life of intelligence, or, greater still, of 
faith ; when the wayward prodigal hears the voice of a father's 
love, and comes to himself and beholds with horror his own 
nakedness, and foul and loathsome degradation, and says, " I 
will arise and go unto my Father ; " and he is almost ready 
to depart, when suddenly a midnight darkness settles down on 
all his faculties. He forgets his father's house, the fond affec- 
tion and tender sympathy of the family there, of angels, and 
spirits of just men made perfect, his own high origin and 
deathless destiny, and fearful responsibilities; plunges madly 
back into sin, and wanders like the demoniac of the Bible 
amidst the tombs of the dead, the sepulchres of buried reso- 
lutions, and murdered mercies, whose spectral apparitions start 
up at every step around him, to haunt and madden him still 
more by their presence. 

The sinner, too, stands amidst an august and stirring scene, 
where all is life, activity, intense excitement, and every living 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



419 



agent is profoundly interested except himself. lie stands 
amidst the march and the movement of a high moral administra- 
tion, which sweeps boundlessly around him, reaching the outer 
limits of immensity itself, comprehending all time and all 
eternity and all worlds in its tremendous issues, where ques- 
tions far more solemn, and interests more vast, than those of 
nations and empires are decided. As this plan moves on in 
it s majestic evolution, our earth has become the theatre of a 
far mightier conflict than any which the embattled nations of 
the world have ever waged, when the earth shook beneath the 
charge of their thronged battalions, or the sea trembled be- 
neath the roar of their artillery. Amidst the thickening in- 
terest of the scene, all created intelligences gather around to 
Avatch the progress of the vast experiment; superhuman be- 
ings mingle their immortal energies in the terrible conflict; 
holy angels fly with winged speed with messages of love ; 
devils range abroad on their own hellish missions ; God him- 
self comes down and adds new grandeur to the scene by his 
own immediate presence ; and he who is mighty to save trav- 
ails in the greatness of his strength, and bears in his own 
body on the cross the whole burden of a world's transgressions. 
Satan falls like lightning from the sky, and rejoicing heralds 
hurry from land to land, to tell the story of this mysterious 
sufferer and this wonderful deliverance; and the angel with 
the everlasting Gospel flies midway in the heaven, bearing it 
onward on pinions of light, and with an arm of power, far 
above all human opposition, to shed its benignant radiance 
over all the world. The loud hosannas of earth are echoed 
back by angelic anthems from the sky, and the Xew Jerusa- 
lem comes down from heaven upon all the renovated earth ; 
and amidst the shouts and the rapturous hallelujahs of redeemed 
and sanctified millions, the great drama of the world hastens 
to a close, and the scenes of a vast and unknown eternity un- 
told in their solemn grandeur before our view. Amidst the 
glories and terrors of this scene, the sinner stands ; amidst 
its conflicts and its perils. Above, around, on every side, 
moves on this mighty scheme, and bears him onward, though 



450 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



imfelt by him, to his final destination. Mysterious agencies 
encircle him on every side. An unseen power overshadows 
him with its awful presence. Above him is a holy God, with- 
in him is an immortal spirit, before him is a long eternity of 
joy or woe; around him on every side are immortal spirits, 
moving onward with him to the same glorious or fearful retri- 
bution ; while many a noble heart beats high with generous 
ardor in view of these great realities, and many a tear is 
dropped, and many a sigh is heaved, and many a prayer is of- 
fered, as the awed spirit bows before the throne of God, and 
asks that the sinner may be awakened from his madness. 

There could be nothing more solemn in the universe of God. 
A sublime and awful earnestness is stamped on every feature 
and on every part of this great plan. There is a solemn earn- 
estness in every message that issues from that great white 
throne, and summons back a rebellious world to its allegiance 
to the king. In that mysterious form where infinite pity and 
infinite woe are strangely blended, where eternal justice and 
eternal love, the extremes of divine compassion and of human 
suffering, mysteriously meet ; in the garden and the cross ; 
in the bloody sweat, the meek endurance, the imperial triumph ; 
in the blackening heavens, the quaking earth, the bursting 
rocks, the awakening dead, there is a sad solemnity of earnest- 
ness, the solemn urgency of some high and overmastering pur- 
pose. In the martyr's dungeon and the martyr's blood, in the 
martyr's fiery agony and the martyr's shout of triumph, in 
Apostolic sufferings and Apostolic toils, their solemn warnings, 
their tender entreaties, their terrible denunciations; in the 
seraph's shout of " Glory in the Highest," in the seraph's 
swift obedience and adoring wonder at the cradle and the 
cross ; in all of these is there not a deep intensity of holy 
earnestness, which no human language can express ? And is 
not that a terrible earnestness of him the great enemy of souls, 
who, though cast down from heaven, yet, rebounding from the 
fall, reasserts his dominion upon earth, and through long cen- 
turies of tears and blood, though often foiled, still pursues 
with desperate zeal his hellish purpose, and plies his devilish 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



451 



stratagems to seduce and ruin the souls of men ? Yet, amidst 
all this earnestness in heaven and earth and hell, the madman 
dares to trifle ! He trifles in full view of Calvary, with all its 
awful accompaniments of sublimity and terror. He trifles 
with the cross and him who hung there in his agony and love ; 
trifles with the precious blood of our redemption, with the 
blood of his own immortality. Nay, he dams to trifle beneath 
the great eye of God, and beneath his uplifted arm of omnipo- 
tent vengeance. Madman, beware ! Go, mock at the lightning 
as it falls crash after crash upon thy doomed home, and laugh 
and jest above its smouldering ruins, where thy dearest ones 
lie buried ! Go, brave the fury of the hurricane as it sweeps 
over sea and land, tossing forests and navies and human habi- 
tations lightly in the air, and leaving no living thing behind 
on its broad path of utter desolation ! But trifle not with 
him who speeds the lightning on its errand of death, and lets 
loose the imprisoned elements to be his ministers of vengeance. 
Go, be merry, if you can, amidst the ruins of some desolate 
city, which the earthquake has demolished, where the mangled 
remains of the dying and the dead lie quivering in their gore, 
beneath the buildings which were once their homes, and are 
now their sepulchres. Go, play the buffoon there ; it is but an 
earthly tragedy, let it be followed by an earthly farce. Hu- 
man madness has invoked it, let human madness riot amid the 
scene with song and laugh and jest and wild delirious merri- 
ment. But there is a ruin which is not of earth — the ruin of 
an immortal spirit ! Mock not at that. Those earthly ruins 
may be rebuilt once more, rise in equal beauty and perhaps in 
loftier grandeur than before. But for a lost spirit there is no 
recovery : from that ruin there is no resurrection. There is 
but one God, one heaven, one Saviour, one probation. God 
has no second Son to give if Christ be rejected. Man has no 
second soul to be saved if this be lost. For " the salvation of 
their soul is precious and it ceaseth forever." 

A lost soul ! What language could portray the ruin of a 
soul lost forever ! Well might the most gifted orator of our day 
exclaim, as his great mind trembles beneath the overwhelming 



452 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



solemnity of the theme, and his own majestic language, in its 
rich and varied grandeur, labors vainly to convey his vivid 
yet inadequate conception : " What, if it be lawful to indulge 
the thought, what would be the funeral obsequies of a lost 
soul ! " " Where shall we find the tears fit to be wept at such 
a spectacle ? Or, could we realize the calamity in all its ex- 
tent, what tokens of commiseration and concern would be 
deemed adequate to the occasion ? Would it suffice for the 
sun to veil his light, the moon her brightness? To cover the 
ocean with mourning and the heavens with sackcloth? Or 
were the whole fabric of nature to be animated and vocal, 
would it be possible for her to utter a groan too deep, or a 
cry too piercing, to express the extent and magnitude of such 
a catastrophe ? " * Thou mayest be thyself that ruin, and the 
nobler the edifice the mightier the ruin. The imperial palace of 
thought swept by laborious study, garnished with all the stores 
of learning and illuminated by brilliant genius, the stately arch, 
the polished shaft, the graceful column, the colossal dome, nay, 
the great pyramids of thought, towering up towards heaven, 
may lie smouldering in ashes, or crushed in ruins, vital with 
an intense and inextinguishable consciousness. It is no human 
imagination, though endowed with prophetic solemnity and 
grandeur, but God's own Word, which tells of those far 
mightier prodigies, in the heavens and the earth, those 
fiercer throes and agonies that shall convulse the whole frame 
of nature, when nature's funeral shall be tolled from the 
heights above, and the blackness of everlasting night shall 
shroud the lost soul. No human or angelic sympathy shall 
then avail. 

But there is another characteristic of ordinary madness to 
which I would invite your especial attention. It is not usually 
the annihilation of the mind, but its perversion ; not the extinc- 
tion of its faculties, but their misdirection or mutilation. The 
maniac has often mental activity even in excess. Each inmate 
of a lunatic asylum readily perceives the madness of every 
other, though unconscious of his own. 

* Hall. 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



453 



You will remember the incident recorded by a gentleman 
who visited one of those homes of the insane. lie was ad- 
dressed by one of plausible demeanor, who had ingeniously 
foiled every effort to detect the seat of his derangement, who 
said to him, pointing to one of his companions in misfortune, 
" that man is mad." "How do you know? " was the visitor's 
reply. "Because he says he is John the Baptist." "But how 
do you know that he is not John the Baptist ?" "Because," 
said he with infinite self-complacency, and equal contempt for 
the other, " I am Jesus Christ, and if he was John the Bap- 
tist he would surely know me." Thus, too, in the great mad- 
house of the world each class can perceive the madness of 
every other, though unconscious of their own, and are often 
heard to exclaim with wonder, and even with bitter indigna- 
tion, against the incorrigible madness and merited suffering of 
mankind. The man of middle age sees nothing but the wild 
delirium of absolute derangement in the reckless gayety and 
self-indulgence of thoughtless and dissipated youth. The 
sedate and quiet citizen distinctly perceives the madness of 
those ambitious and restless spirits, whether warriors or states- 
men, who have made the world mad by their contagion. The 
ardent and aspiring, the lovers of pleasure and of fame, return 
the charge of madness against the dull drudges of ordinary 
life, who live amidst the perpetual stagnation of the soul, 
without the intense excitement of any vivid pleasure, or strong 
impulse of any high emotion, or the broad expression of any 
elevated or comprehensive purpose. 

And for ourselves we believe that they are right, for if 
there be a madness which in its stupid obstinacy transcends 
all other forms of human folly, it is that dull delirium of the 
soul, which, amidst all those elements of grandeur in the uni- 
verse around, and all the corresponding susceptibilities of the 
soul of man ; amidst the mighty interests at stake, the con- 
flicts that are waging, and the lofty sympathies they are call- 
ing into action in a world where prophets and patriarchs and 
apostles and martyrs have lived and prayed and toiled and 
died, and noble patriots and heroes, still are living, can find no 



454 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



object so worthy their pursuit as the accumulation of worldly 
wealth, or the attainment of a transitory worldly distinction. 
But are they not often shrewd, keen, sagacious, far-seeing in all 
that concerns their worldly interests, skilfully employing 
their own resources, and dexterously wielding the feelings and 
passions of other men, to accomplish the one great object of their 
wishes and their efforts? Very true; yet this is precisely the 
characteristic of the ordinary madman. He too is quick, 
shrewd, adroit, cunning, in the attainment of his ends. But, 
in the calm view of sober reason, his ends are not worth at- 
taining. On every point save one he exhibits rare activity of 
mind. On this he is the victim of some strange hallucination. 
He reasons often with an intuitive rapidity and precision sur- 
passing that of the trained logician, but his premises are the 
illusions of a distempered fancy. His conclusions would be 
true, but for the madness of his premises. We might admire 
the shrewdness, the energy, the undaunted courage, the de- 
fiance of all difficulty and danger in the prosecution of bis 
object, were not the end desired too frivolous to enlist the sym- 
pathies, or command the approbation, of a rational and immor- 
tal being. 

Thus too is it with the worldly madman. Even amidst the 
most dazzling exhibitions of the poet, the novelist, or the ambi- 
tious statesman, we pause to mourn that so much energy should 
be lavished on subjects so inferior. And the wider the range 
of his inquiries, the vaster the accumulation of his knowledge, 
the mightier the sweep of his genius as he rises in this ascend- 
ing climax from step to step towards some fiery burst of 
oratoric passion, or to some remote conclusion which crowns 
the summit of some high fabric of reasoning, the more pro- 
found is our regret and wonder, that a mind formed for im- 
mortality should summon its powers to their highest exercise, 
and lavish its resources on any theme less than eternal and 
divine. He may have read all history, studied all philos- 
ophy, may be deeply versed in the science of human nature, 
and intimately acquainted with the mutual relations and con- 
flicting interests of the most distant nations. He may bring 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



455 



light from the past to shine upon the present, and cast its 
radiance over the distant future ; and it is precisely in such a 
case as this, where the greatest of earthly efforts has accom- 
plished the greatest of earthly objects, and attained the 
greatest of earthly rewards, and the greatest of earthly mad- 
men has gained the loudest eulogies from other madmen around 
like himself, that the madness alike of the many and the one is 
most distinctly manifest. He can tell you the products of a 
nation's soil, the value of a nation's commerce, the sources of 
a nation's revenue. All this he has calculated with minutest 
precision. But on all that concerns his immortal interests he 
is insane ; his very arithmetic here fails him. The simplest 
of all problems, the most solemn, the most sublime, the 
most urgent, pressing every moment for a solution, and 
from which there is no escape, he cannot solve ; he recoils 
in convulsive repugnance from it, scowls on it with a mad- 
man's horror and a madman's hate : " What shall a man be 
profited if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" 
And now, as he is charioted along in splendor through the 
crowded streets of some illuminated city, cheered with the 
loud applause of congregated thousands, who hang with eager 
admiration on his lips ; Avhat is all this when viewed in the 
light of eternity, but the empty pageant of a maniac proces- 
sion? And does not he who sits high exalted above all worlds, 
and comprehends all time, truly stamp the charge of madness 
on him, who thus casts away the celestial diadem of glory for 
a fading laurel, and exchanges the glad hosannas of the blessed 
for the wild and delirious applause of a fickle and besotted 
generation ? 

On every faculty of his nature, intellectual, emotional, and 
moral, is stamped the broad, indelible impress of immensity, 
infinity, eternity. He cannot think of time, but it swells into 
eternity ; of space, but it expands into immensity of cause ; 
but he rises to a first srreat cause of causes. His destinies too 
are commensurate with his powers of thought and calculation ; 
they spontaneously overleap all the boundaries of space and 
time, and acknowledge no satisfying portion, but one that is 



456 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



infinite and eternal. The first step in his moral life is from 
the law upon the conscience to the legislator upon the throne. 
The first ray of moral light comes from the world above, and 
in the last hours of his earthly being, when every sense and 
every faculty whose appropriate theatre is earth, is failing fast, 
this which peculiarly links him with eternity, springs into new 
activity, and bounds forward instinctively and irresistibly to 
the bar of God and the retributions of eternity. Yet all these 
higher elements of his being, and their correspondent interests, 
he wholly disregards, and all the large provisions which eter- 
nal love has made on their behalf. To all his earthly interests, 
however trivial, he is wide awake, qnickly sensitive, keenly 
sagacious. Touch his honor, his estate, his civil rights, aud 
every faculty springs into spontaneous activity. But the in- 
terests of his soul ! To these he gives not one anxious 
thought ; postpones them to every other interest, sacrifices 
them on the most frivolous pretences, to the merest trifles. 
He quaffs with eager haste the intoxicating portion which the 
world offers, though he knows that the drugged draught is 
fever in the blood, and madness in the brain, and wild de- 
lirium. Every avenue of sense and feeling — the eye, the ear, 
the heart — is closed against the solemn realities around him, 
and he roves and raves and revels amidst the illusions of a 
voluntary intoxication. Heaven from on high invites hiin 
home, and her everlasting gates, on golden hinges turning, 
utter soft music as they open wide to welcome him at his ar- 
rival. Hell from beneath yawns wide to receive him. Ten 
thousand voices peal above, beneath, around, within him ; 
from the bed of sickness, from the chamber of death, from the 
freshly opened grave, from the mouldering sepulchre, from the 
sinner's bed of remorse and despair, and the saint's couch of 
rapture, from the depths of his own agitated conscience, and 
from God's great throne on high. Yet he marches heedless 
or, his eyes fastened on the earth, and his heart cleaving to 
the dust. He weaves gay garlands, and sings merry songs, on 
the very verge of the abyss, which is crumbling beneath his 
very footstep, and- gaping wide to engulf him. And- when 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



457 



he sinks at last, Lis epitapli might be written thus: Here lies 
the body of one whose soul has gone to judgment. ITe lived 
like a madman, and as the fool dieth so he died. One moment- 
ary flash of intelligence gleamed horribly over his last hours, 
to reveal the ruin which it was too late to remedy, and he 
sank back with a groan into midnight darkness. He feared 
the laugh of fools, but heeded not the instructions of wisdom. 
He courted the approbation of men, but feared not the frown 
or the vengeance of God. He pampered his body, and neg- 
lected his soul ; and the wealth which he spent his life to ac- 
cumulate, and for which he sold his immortal spirit, is now 
enjoyed by others, who gayly revel in his halls, and of all his 
large possessions have left him only this six feet of earth, and 
reared this monument to perpetuate the memory of his mad- 
ness. Reader, pause to drop a tear over the madman's grave, 
and offer a prayer for his soul. It is not yet too late. That 
grave, that epitaph, that history is thine. Thine that life of 
insensate folly; that death, that undone eternity, too, without 
repentance is thine own ! 

Another characteristic of the ordinal')' madman is his ex- 
travagant estimate of himself, of his powers, of his fortune, 
his immunity from the evils that reach common men, his su- 
periority to the ordinary laws, and independence of the ordi- 
nary course of nature. Perils that deter other men have no 
terrors for him. Forces that would crush other men shall 
pass by him harmless. Laws that encircle other men with 
their omnipresent majesty and immutable sanction can never 
reach him, were not made for him. He mocks at the lightning 
and the thunderbolt. The floods and the pestilence cannot 
hurt him. On his behalf the laws of nature are suspended or 
reversed. He leaps from a window and shall not be injured. 
The law of gravitation shall be suspended — rather some mys- 
terious charm encircles him at every moment to insure his 
safety. His puissant arm shall arrest a rail-car in full speed, 
or stay a falling mountain. He breathes the pestilence, and 
yet shall live. He drinks the deadliest poison, it shall be 

health and nutrition to his svstem. He cherishes the voung 

20 



458 



INFLUENCE OE EVIL SPIRITS. 



adder in his bosom, yet fears not the venom or the fang of the 
fall-grown reptile. 

Just so is it with the youthful sinner. He lives and moves 
and breathes amidst a tainted atmosphere, where every word 
and thought and feeling is full of .worldliness and sensuality, 
of ambition and hostility against God. He quaffs with eager 
joy the poisoned chalice which the world offers, and, amidst 
the fever of his delirium, dreams that the spasmodic energy 
of madness is the calm vigor of health, nay, the loftiest exer- 
tion of heroic courage and manly strength. He cherishes 
within his bosom those passions and those habits which first 
coil gently around his slumbering powers, then with tighten- 
ing folds embrace every faculty, crushing each rising energy, 
and paralyzing each lofty purpose, until at last with their 
serpent's eye of deadly fascination, and serpent's hiss of ter- 
ror, they send the serpent's venom along the whole throbbing 
circulation, through every vein and artery, through head and 
heart, and every member; and the man stands before us one 
bloated and hideous mass of moral putrefaction. The evil as- 
sociations that ruin others shall not injure him. The habits 
that enslave others shall not master him. The slightest call 
of inclination lie cannot now deny, the gentlest breath of 
passion he cannot now resist. But when every appetite has 
been inflamed by long indulgence, every passion glowing with 
the gathered fuel of years of sin, when all its fires are up, and 
all its energies in motion, and the whole train is sweeping 
furiously on to its destined goal, he thinks that he can in a mo- 
ment arrest its mad career, and even reverse its movement. 
Pie can leap over the precipice of ruin, and pausing midway 
down, shall never reach the abyss below. Nay, like the mad- 
man of whom w 7 e all have read, who spurned the vulgar feat 
of leaping from the summit of a tower to the ground below, 
and embraced with eagerness the proposition to leap from the 
earth to the top of the tower, so the sinner imagines that he 
too can clear by a single bound the loftiest heights of moral 
excellence, and without the slow T and painful progress of other 
men, can, by an effort of his will, be at once a wise and virtu- 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



459 



cms and happy man. Around him on every side are the 
bleached bones of those who have run the same mad career; 
and wrecks of wasted fortunes, and ruined character, and souls 
lost forever, are strewed along his path. They lived without 
God, were ruined without remedy, died without hope, were 
judged without mercy, and damned without deliverance. 

But the laws that decide the destiny of other men, were not 
made for him. There is a law of God, eternal, omnipotent, 
immutable as any other; a law extending to our whole intel- 
lectual, physical, and moral nature, universal and irresistible, 
and which has no exceptions. It is the law of habit. We 
shall not pause to analyze this law, to explain its nature, its 
origin, its necessity. It establishes a terrible unity in human 
life ; makes the past the parent of the present and the future, 
the boy the father of the man ; and passes on to the trembling 
hand of the aged sinner the cup of bitterness which had been 
mingled by his youthful folly. It binds together by links 
stronger than steel the remotest boundaries of human destiny, 
the first dawnings of moral agency on earth, with the final 
issues of eternity. There is not a thought of the mind, or an 
act of the life, not a word that issues from the lips, or an emo- 
tion that flits across the countenance and straightway disap- 
pears, which has not left its impression on the soul, deep, per- 
manent, indelible. You shall never be, through all eternity 
— can never be — the spirit you might have been, but for the 
thoughts and acts of yesterday. Sin may be forgiven, but 
never obliterated. The wound it has inflicted on the soul may 
be healed, but the scar remains. The moment just passed is 
gone indeed, but it is not destroyed. It has gone to mingle 
with the solemn ages of the eternity that is past. It has gone 
to bear its record to the bar of God, but it lias left behind a 
more fearful record here. Its thoughts, passions, purposes, have 
mingled with all the elements of our being, have been incor- 
porated into the very constitution of our nature, have pene- 
trated the whole texture of our existence, and become the 
warp, web, and woof of our whole future life. 

But if such be the dominion of habit in every department 



460 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



of our nature, if it not only moulds our thoughts and actions, 
but the very capacity to think and act ; when we ascend to 
the department of our moral nature it seems to be endowed 
with a peculiar and almost supernatural control — a control 
which leads us to suspect that as the body was formed for the 
service of the mind, and the mind was formed for the service 
of God, so this law of habit, when viewed in its higher and 
wider relations, is nothing less than the solemn utterance cf 
God's approbation of the right, and judicial condemnation of 
the wrong. Thus much at least is certain, that as it is the 
sweet and precious privilege of virtue ever to become more 
virtuous, and as the stream of life flows on to diffuse itself 
continually in ever-wider expansion, and profounder depths of 
piety; so it is the irrevocable and immitigable curse of sin, 
that it must perpetuate and multiply itself, in ever accumulat- 
ing hideousness and horror, must become more " exceeding 
sinful," must diffuse itself by an infernal contagion over all 
around and all within, passing from faculty to faculty, till the 
whole man is mastered ; from the body to the mind, from the 
appetites to the passions, from the passions to the imagination, 
from the imagination to the reasoning powers and the moral 
sentiments, from the transient and momentary indulgence to a 
whole life of sin ; when the memory recalls only scenes of 
past indulgence, the heart pants only after forbidden tilings, 
the polluted imagination, impotent to resist, riots amidst im- 
agery of licentious joy, and every power of thought and feel- 
ing and association sweeps bounding on in the broad deep 
channel of habitual desire, only to swell the current they can- 
not stem. Resistance now is hopeless, even were it not im- 
possible, and impossible if it were not hopeless, for the only 
power of resistance, the to ill, is captive. " Can the Ethiopian 
change his skin, or the leopard his spots?" "Then may ye 
also do good who are accustomed to do evil." Every sin in- 
dulged increases the power of temptation, and diminishes the 
power of resistance. The voice of conscience is feebler, the 
decisions of reason less distinct, the motives for the right pre- 
sent themselves more seldom, and with decreasing confidence. 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



401 



The motives to the wrong rush in, in greater number and with 
increasing importunity, upon the enfeebled and distracted mind. 

jSTo man renounces at once all fear of God, all reverence for 
religion, all sense of shame, all the principles of honor. He 
offers first a faint resistance ; then parleys and temporizes with 
the foe ; then receives him into the citadel ; then wears his 
gaudy silken fetters, exults in his bondage, glories in his 
shame ; then receives reluctantly his manacles of steel, and 
groans beneath the burden ; then madly dances to the music 
of his chains. 

Such, then, is the law of habit, which is nothing else than 
the insidious power of sin — the eternal law of God and na- 
ture — the inexorable doom stamped indelibly upon its brow 
by the hand of the Almighty, and legible to all. It is 
written in the blood of millions, and yet the madman fan- 
cies that this most terrible and universal of all God's laws 
is suspended in regard to him; that he can defy its terrors 
and cast its fetters from him. The cord which binds him to 
the world, and holds him away from God, is composed of 
many a subtle and invisible strand, which habit and early as- 
sociation have already woven out of the elements of his fallen 
nature. He cannot burst from them even now ; cannot even 
wish to be free. The fetters have reached his soul and para- 
lyzed its power, and yet he believes that when years of sin 
have strengthened the cords that bind him, and enfeebled all 
his powers, he who could not burst the cords — and each day 
of sin is adding another and yet another strand — will, by an 
easy effort, rend asunder the cable. Each step in sin is bear- 
ing him further from God and nearer hell, and as the distance 
widens, the attraction of the good diminishes, and the power 
of evil increases its strange and dreadful fascination. And 
yet he madly hopes that when he has wandered for years fur- 
ther and further away from God and heaven, he will find him- 
self very near the kingdom; and need only stretch forth his 
hand in the hour of his extremity, and knock at the door of 
heaven, and it shall be opened. 

This leads us to consider another law of God's moral gov- 



462 



INFLUENCE OF EYIL SPIRITS. 



eminent, of which the former one is the counterpart. The 
one is learned from experience and reason, the other from 
revelation. The one lies amidst the mysteries of human 
agency, the other amidst the higher mysteries of the divine 
administration. Both may perhaps be traced upward even 
by us to one common principle, the mind of eternal justice. 
Both are exemplified on the theatre of human affairs. Both 
have their solemn and tremendous issues in eternity. The one 
tells us that if we dally with sin we shall be the slaves of sin ; 
that if we trifle with conscience we shall not see its light, nor 
hear its voice, nor enjoy its influences. That voice, if stifled, 
shall wax feebler and feebler still, while the uproar of the 
passions shall be louder and louder, and the very power to 
hear shall become extinct. The other bears us at once amidst 
the realities of the unseen world of spirits; and shows us this 
same law transferred to the agencies of that higher supernat- 
ural administration. It tells us of a holy Spirit of God that 
visits the soul of man to arouse the slumbering conscience, 
and quicken the dull perceptions, and points to a coming 
judgment. And now he whispers in tones of gentlest invita- 
tion ; and now he thunders of the wrath to come ; and now 
he pours the light of a convincing demonstration on the be- 
nighted understanding ; and now he reveals the beauty of holi- 
ness and the love of a dying Saviour in melting tenderness ; 
and now he discovers to the startled sinner the dark pollu- 
tions of a soul steeped in sin. 

Yet ever as this mysterious visitor is treated, will he treat 
the soul of man. If kindly welcomed, he will often return. 
If fondly cherished, he will take up his permanent abode, and 
make it a habitation of God, and shed abroad, over that con- 
secrated soul, the light and peace and joy of his habitual pres- 
ence. If neglected, grieved, insulted, he will depart, seldom 
to return, perhaps never. Now, the holy Scriptures manifestly 
place the turning-point, the crisis of man's salvation precisely 
here, amidst all the inscrutable mystery of God's eternal 
sovereignty. Yet manifestly in that strange union of human 
and divine, agency, in the work of man's salvation, the- whole 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



463 



interest of bis eternity hinges upon this single question : How 
does he receive these visitations of God's Spirit? The whole 
Bible is full of this subject. Warning after warning rever- 
berates along its pages against the slightest indignity offered to 
this Spirit. Exhortation after exhortation peals from prophet, 
evangelist, apostle, and the Saviour himself, to welcome with 
joy and gratitude this mysterious visitant. Example after ex- 
ample is adduced, in solemn and terrific array, to show how 
fearful is the doom of those who slight his offered influences, 
and grieve away his gracious presence. "My spirit shall not 
always strive with man," was the death-doom of the antedi- 
luvian world ; and in all the wild roar of those tumultuous 
waters as they swept over that desolated world, or the shrieks 
of the perishing millions that sank beneath the billows, there 
was nothing half so awful as tliat solemn sentence. It was a 
God-abandoned world ! deliberately cast off by God because 
they had grieved his Spirit. And when our Saviour stood and 
wept over Jerusalem, what was the burden of her condemna- 
tion ? The accumulated guilt and accumulated vengeance of 
fifteen centuries rose above their heads, the blood of all the 
prophets was upon their hands, soon to be stained by the blood 
of the Son of God ! But all this might have been forgiven. 
They were a God-abandoned people, given up to judicial blind- 
ness and judicial insensibility. "They knew not the day of 
their visitation, the things that made for their peace were hid- 
den from their eyes." And when an individual or a race is 
given up finally of God, it matters little whether the fires of 
conflagration, or the waters of deluge are the ministers of 
justice, to summon them to their final account. 

Around this central and decisive point in the great moral 
warfare of the soul, all the thunders of the Bible roll perpet- 
ually, and all the forces of the great enemy are rallied, and 
all his skill is concentrated there. Even he who was life and 
truth and love itself, who never spake but in love and tender- 
ness for man, even he assumes an unwonted sternness, and says, 
" All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men, 
but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be for- 



464 



INFLUENCE OF EYIL SPIRITS. 



given unto men." It is only here that the solemn tenderness 
of the Bible is turned into bitterest irony. " Because I have 
called and ye refused ; I have stretched out my hand and no 
man regarded. But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and 
would none of my reproof ; I also will laugh at your calamity ; 
I will mock when your fear cometh, when your fear cometh 
as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; 
when distress and anguish cometh upon yon. Then shall 
they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek 
me early, but they shall not find me ; for that they hated 
knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord; they 
"would none of my counsel, they despised all my reproofs. 
Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, 
and be filled w^ith their own devices." I know of nothing 
so terrible as this. It seems as if the very heavens above 
had become one vast gallery where every lowest whisper of 
human mockery was gathered up, and echoed back, in tones 
of stern and concentrated defiance ; as if infinite patience were 
at length wearied out, and the last drop exhausted from the 
cup of God's forbearance. 

Yet it is precisely here that the madman trifles most ; trifles 
habitually, trifles daily, is trifling still. Examples are all 
around us. There is scarcely a man in this assembly, a youth, 
a child who has reached the years of moral agency, that has 
not experienced the visitations of that Spirit. Where are 
they now? — those meltings of tenderness, those tremblings of 
terror, that solemnity of awe, that sensibility of conscience — 
the falling tear, the heaving sigh, the murmured prayer for 
mercy? Where the convictions of Felix were, after he had 
said to Paul, " Go thy way for the present, at a more conven- 
ient season I will call for thee." God's grieved Spirit has de- 
parted : is it forever ? One act of deliberate rejection may seal 
your doom. On a single moment often hangs suspended the 
eternal destinies of an immortal spirit. There are in the life 
of every human being moments big with the issues of eternity 
— the great landmarks of his existence, where the past all ter- 
minates, and the whole future begins anew. 



INFLUENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS. 



4G5 



But we must pass on to the next division of our subject, 
and here can only give hasty hints, and leave them to your 
own reflections. 

Christ only can cast out the devil and heal the madness. All 
philosophy, all poetry, all literature, art, government, civiliza- 
tion, refinement, for sixty centuries, have been but varied de- 
vices of human ingenuity, to exorcise the demon, and relieve 
society from the evils he inflicted. But all in vain. They 
could alleviate, palliate, but not heal; could sv> r eep and gar- 
nish the house, adorn it with all the choice productions of hu- 
man art, illuminate it with the confiscations of brilliant genius, 
but could not restore the original and rightful occupant. The 
demon, startled for a season from his lair, returned to his va- 
cant habitation with seven other devils worse than himself, 
and controlled for bis own malignant purposes, and appropri- 
ated to his own use, and imbued with his own spirit, the very 
means employed to dispossess him. Sad result of all human 
history ! In all ages and all nations it is the same. All human 
efforts conducted without the Gospel have not only proved 
failures, but have aggravated the evils they aimed to remedy. 
Philosophy has always terminated in atheism, refinement in 
effeminacy, art in licentiousness, freedom in anarchy, and then 
in despotism. " This is the moral of all human tales." This is 
the goal to which all schemes and experiments to elevate men, 
and nations withal, without the true religion have conducted 
them. 

The sterner and loftier virtues of an earlier age are always 
allied to some faith in God and immortality. Increasing civili- 
zation banishes the demon of superstition, but as wise men of 
the world mutter their incantations over the body of society, 
the demon passions are aroused once more ; the possessed ex- 
claims, "Jesus I know, and Paul I know, but who are you?" 
And nobility, priesthood, and king, law and order, all the 
learning, graces, and refinements of civilized society with the 
very foundations of society itself, are swept away in the wild 
whirlwind of revolutionary passions. Even under the light 

of the Gospel a strange phenomenon mav be observed in indi- 
20* 



466 



INFLUENCE OF ETIL SPIRITS. 



yi duals and nations. The evil spirit may go out. His power 
may cease for a time. The spirit of impiety, blasphemy, licen- 
tiousness, may be exorcised for a season. The swearer may 
cease to swear, the bold blasphemer to revile. Yet how often 
does he return again— bitterer, fiercer, more numerous than 
before — the very spirit of infidelity, hypocrisy, and formality. 
Why? The house is empty. Christ is not there. If we would 
keep the demon out, every apartment of the soul must be occu- 
pied ; not by metaphysical abstraction, or graceful sentimental- 
ity, or dead dogmas ; but by Christ in his living efficacy. 



XXVII. 



THE FINAL AND UNIVERSAL TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEI . 



Rev. xiv. 6. — "And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having 
the everlasting Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and 
to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people/' 



We shall not attempt this evening to open the book that is 
sealed with seven seals, to unveil the mysteries of this wonder- 
ful work, or to discuss the truth of any of those various and 
conflicting theories which have been advanced, in ancient or in 
modern times, respecting the millennium, the time of its com- 
mencement, or the harbingers that shall announce its near ap- 
proach, but shall proceed directly to consider the great event 
predicted in our text — the universal diffusion of the Gospel — 
and remark : 

First, the glorious certainty of this event. It is no remote 
contingency of an unfathomable future — lies not among the 
vague possibilities or even the higher probabilities of a coming 
era. We have learned it from no doubtful report, announced 
it on no questionable authority, have ascertained it by no cir- 
cuitous or complicated process of reasoning. It is not a 
wild conjecture, nor is it a delusion of fancy. Oh, no ! I saw 
it, these eyes beheld it. It was on the Isle of Patmos. I was 
in the spirit on the Lord's day, when wrapt in visions of the Al- 
mighty that gave my spirit strength to sweep adown the gulf 
of time, in full possession of all my powers, with every faculty 
invigorated, purified, exalted by direct communion with God, 
till in that high apocalyptic vision all the glories of heaven, 
and the whole future history of earth, lay expanded before me. 

It was then that it appeared, not a shadowy phantom of a 



463 



FINAL AND UNIVERSAL 



disordered brain, "but openly, boldly, visibly, palpably it stood 
before me a transcendent and glorious reality. Hovy could I 
be deceived ? It was the Gospel that I loved, and borne by an 
angel that I knew. His bright pathway was in the midst of 
heaven, and I gazed and gazed intent, delighted, till I beheld 
him bear it to " every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and peo- 
ple." I saw it with all the certainty of vision, announced it 
with all the authority of inspiration. 

Again, it w^as borne onward by an angel's arm of power, on 
an angel's pinions of strength, with an angel's devoted love. 
Now, who shall resist his progress, what barrier retard his 
career, what energy arrest his flight? "Let the heathen rage, 
and the people imagine a vain thing, let the kings of the earth 
set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against the 
Lord and against his anointed." Let all the combined powers 
of earth and hell array themselves against it, let them hurl 
their envenomed missiles, peal their loudest artillery, fulminate 
their bitterest denunciations, let all the arls of secret malignity 
and open warfare be united — yet what will it avail ? Behold 
his luminous pathway in the midst cf heaven! and far above 
the puny malice of his foes, from country to country, in his 
own sublime and serene elevation he pursues his onward career, 
shedding down the light and joy of the Gospel on successive 
generations and in distant lands. The mists of earth may ob- 
scure our vision, the clouds of the air may hide him from our 
view r , but to the unsealed eye of him — lone exile on Patmos, 
as he stood on that high mount of prophetic vision, there was 
no pause in his flight, but it was onward, still and ever onward, 
onward amidst the brightness and purity of heaven, laden with 
everlasting blessings for all the nations of the world. 

Oh, brethren, can we not elevate ourselves this evening to 
the height of his sublime and blessed assurance ; do we need 
another prophet to arise and teach us, that the Gospel of this 
kingdom shall be preached in all the world? That no weapon 
forged against Zion shall prosper; that sword and spear and 
battle-axe shall be broken together ? Has it not been so in all 
ages ? When the angel commenced his flight, beginning at 



TRIUMPH OP THE GOSPEL. 



439 



Jerusalem, was not all human power arrayed to resist his pro- 
gress; were not all human interests, prejudices, passions, leagued 
in open hostility against him ? Magistrate, people, priest, em- 
peror, philosopher, fanatic, wit, eloquence, argument, learning, 
! genius, the tongue, the pen, the sword, all combined to retard 
| his career — but in vain. The eyes of expectant nations gazed 
with wonder and rapture on his flight ; the hearts of despond- 
ing millions welcomed the message that he bore. The very 
gods of the heathen, startled at his approach, grow dumb; the 
Apollo of Delphi withholds his oracles, and the Jupiter of the 
■ Capitol abandons his throne. From land to land the tidings 
j fly, from mouth to mouth the message spreads. The haughty 
' Roman, the polished Greek, the savage barbarian heard it. It 
was whispered in the porch and the academy, and the philoso- 
phers gathered at Areopagus to hear of Jesus and the resurrec- 
tion. It has resounded amongst the hills of the eternal city, 
and is heard amid Caesar's household. The eastern mystic has 
heard it and is startled from his dream. The northern bar- 
barian, as he drank his draught of blood from a brother's skull, 
has paused to listen to the story of one who loved his enemies, 
and shed his own blood, an infinite atonement for sin. Strange 
thoughts are waking up, new hopes are kindling in the minds 
of men, the tremulous agitation of a new life is felt through- 
out the world's great mass of putrefaction, and every eye that 
is turned toward heaven sees that it is an angel's flight. 

But shall Satan without a struggle yield his long dominion ? 
No, let every device of cruelty and falsehood be plied to resist 
the progress of the Gospel. Those Christians are atheists and 
despisers of the gods, says the priest. Yea, and enemies of 
Caasar, says the magistrate. In their midnight assemblies 
scenes are exhibited of licentiousness and crime, at which day 
would blush, says one, and in their hellish orgies they devour 
young children, and swear horrid oaths as they drink their 
young blood, says another. The gods have abandoned earth 
for their crimes, exclaims a third, and signs in heaven above 
and earth below — earthquakes, famine, and pestilence — pro- 
claim the avenging Deity. Away with such monsters from 



470 



FINAL AND UNIVERSAL 



the earth, exclaim all together, to wild beasts or the fire ! The 
Christian martyr walks meekly to the stake. The cup his Fa- 
ther gives shall he not drink it ? But does the angel stop his 
flight ? Tell me, does the sun cease to shine ? the stars, do 
they lose their brightness ? is the moon turned from her orbit of 
glory ? Are the great laws of nature reversed ? is the universe 
of God unhinged ? Blessed be God that far above, and wide 
beyond the circle of human passions, the theatre of human 
power, extend the laws of a wider and loftier jurisdiction, and 
that he who sitteth enthroned high above them all, has so 
subordinated all to his own great designs, that even the wrath 
of man shall accomplish the purposes of God. The violence 
of persecution recoils upon itself, the enormity of the charges 
contrasted with the purity of a spotless life, is their own per- 
fect refutation. The Christian dies, but the undying angel 
pursues his own sublime and beneficent flight. And from that 
day to this how constant, yet how vain, have been the efforts 
to prevent the diffusion of the Gospel. In the days of Luther, 
pope and emperor and kings, a licentious aristocracy, and de- 
praved priesthood, could not resist it. At a later period the 
keen swords of gay and gallant cavaliers could not suppress 
it. In the last century, the wit, learning, eloquence of Vol- 
taire, Rousseau, Hume, and Gibbon, and in the present the 
deeper learning and more insidious wiles of German literati, 
have failed. And now, after the scrutiny of centuries, amidst 
the accumulated discoveries of modern science, now that a 
cautious scepticism has sifted all knowledge, and all the lights 
of genius and learning are intensely concentrated on it, we 
may fearlessly assert that the Bible stands on a prouder emi- 
nence than ever — that the angel who bears it is taking a loftier 
and more rapid flight. 

Second. An angelic mission this ! the diffusion of God's 
Word. God and angels are embarked in it. So vast is its im- 
portance, so overwhelming its grandeur, that it excites the in- 
terest and arouses the sympathies and calls forth the activities of 
the heavenly inhabitants. Oh, brethren, what a thought is this 
to confirm our faith, to rebuke our inactivity, at once to elevate 



TRIUMPH OF THK GOSPEL. 



4U 



and humble us. Let us not amidst our degradation and misery 
(forget the grandeur of our high original, the sublimity of our 
! j future destiny. And is it true? Yes, it is an inexpressibly 
j precious truth, that, fallen as we are, there is hope in our case ; 
; |that though wayward children, we are children still ; that we 
are members still of God's great and universal family of love; 
that though voluntary wanderers from our Father's house, yet 
| the fondness of a Father's love yearns after us, and the tender- 
ness of fraternal sympathy melts through all the members of 
that family. There is joy in heaven at the repentance of one 
sinner, and that joy was once heard overflowing the walls of 
heaven, and bursting from the sky, when they announced the 
Saviour's advent. "There is joy in heaven, and amongst the 
angels of God, over one sinner that repenteth." Brethren, all 
poetry can furnish nothing so touching or so beautiful as those 
simple words, and in the whole compass of uninspired philoso- 
phy there can nowhere be found a view at once so comprehen- 
sive and so just, of the bond that binds the remotest parts of 
God's moral universe together, that encircles with so mild a 
radiance the throne of the universal Father and universal 
King. 

And this is no doubtful revelation, no casual or hasty glimpse 
of the glories too bright to be endured — not one of those flashes, 
intolerably bright, from that ineffable glory, which dazzle and 
stun us by the grandeur of their revelation. It is one of the 
clearest and most frequent teachings of God's Word, lies at 
the very foundation of the method of salvation, is interwoven 
with the whole fabric of God's truth. Without it, we could 
neither understand the ministry of angels, nor the sacrifices of 
his Son. " God so loved the world that he gave his only be- 
gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish, 
but have everlasting life." This was at once the measure of 
his love and the motive to the sacrifice. With what solemn 
dignity, incalculable value, imperishable grandeur does this 
invest the soul of man ! When God would commend his love 
to us, he tells us of the price he paid for our ransom: and 
what? A whole world of matter ? No. The whole material 



472 



UNIVERSAL TRIUMPH OP THE GOSPEL. 



universe? Did lie take his brightest angel? Did he take all 
matter, and offer on it all spirit ? ~No ; but he did more. He 
went into his own bosom, and gave his only begotten and well- 
beloved Son. And then he chose the princes of his house- 
hold, prime-ministers from around his throne, to be the minis- 
ters and messengers of his love. What an elevated theatre 
have we to act upon ! What a load of infamy, or crown of 
moral approbation, are we to receive according to our conduct 
or characters here ! God and angels observe our conduct, God 
and angels are interested in our welfare. They offer us all the 
assistance that we need, and if we shall after this prefer the 
poor enjoyments of earth, how great will be our fall, how deep 
and awful our condemnation ! All the glories of the heavenly 
world are laid open to our view ; we have only to accept and 
be saved, to taste and live. If we refuse the offers so kindly 
made us, when the disapprobation and contempt of a holy 
universe, the accumulated abhorrence of all that is good and 
lovely in creation shall frown upon us, what will be our feel- 
ings ! The church then is safe, though men oppose ; there 
are more for us than against us. Oh, in what a world we 
live, with what awful grandeur encompassed on every side, 
linked with God and angels, tending to heaven or hell ! All 
around us infinity and eternity, above us incalculable heights, 
beneath us unfathomable depths, w T ithin us capacities of un- 
limited enjoyment or woe, energies of fearful intensity, which, 
perverted or rightly directed, may bring agony or joy to our- 
selves or others — around on every side perishing millions. 
But is all heaven awake, and do we slumber? Does the angel 
still push his onward flight with unwearied pinion, unabated 
ardor, unquenched and unquenchable love; and has God given 
his own Son, and are we inactive, giving to this great cause 
the tribute of a transient thought, and an empty wish ? You 
remember who it is that hath said, " If any man have not the 
spirit of Christ, he is none of his." 



XXVIII. 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



Luke, xix. 41, 42. — ;i And when he was come near, he beheld the city and 
wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy 
day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid from 
thine eyes." 



These words were spoken on our Saviour's last solemn ap- 
proach to Jerusalem. The Feast of the Passover was at hand, 
and already" six days before were gathered the thousands of 
Israel, from every corner of Judea, and every region of the 
globe, to celebrate that solemn festival, and to record, with 
hymns of grateful praise, the day of the right hand of the Most 
High, when the first-born of Egypt perished, and with a high 
hand and uplifted arm the God of Jacob led forth his chosen 
people. 

And now, as the crowds of annual visitors come up, while 
the thronged streets are filled with the hum of a lively and busy 
population, acquaintances of the past year are revived, the 
ready recognition, affectionate salutation, and kind inquiry cir- 
culate; but, above all, there is one of whom all inquire and all 
have heard. " What think you, will he come to the feast ? " 
But lie was one of spirit far different from theirs. A man of sor- 
rows, he knew this visit was his last, that a life spent in doing 
.good was to terminate there. That holy heart knew no evil, 
yet it should burst beneath the burden of the world's trans- 
gressions. The typical feast was to pass away, and he the Lamb 
of God to be slain, and there offered a propitiation fur sin. 

On his last melancholy passage he lodged at Bethany in the 
bosom of that pious and devoted family, where Martha minis- 
tered, and Mary sat at his feet, and Lazarus, raised from the 



474 



CHRIST WEEPING OYER JERUSALEM. 



(lend, reclined at the table with his astonished guests. It was 
at the foot of Mount Olivet where he was wont to retire from 
the noise of public crowds and the malice of foes, to meditate 
and pray amidst its groves of palms, and figs, and olives, and 
vines. Already had the fame of his morals and doctrine gone 
abroad, and his last great miracle on Lazarus attracted universal 
attention. And now expectation was on tiptoe, friends awaited 
his glorification, foes his destruction, and the curious, excited 
crowd, aware of his approach, went forth to meet and welcome 
him. It was at the eastern descent of Mount Olivet, as it 
looks toward Bethany, where this throng met to escort him to 
Jerusalem. Here they hailed him king of Israel, welcomed him 
as son of David, strewed flowers and palm-branches along his 
path; and the full tide of joy flowed forth in those songs of 
exulting and rapturous praise, which the old prophets wrote in 
view of the Messiah's days. " And the multitudes that went 
before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the son of 
David; blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; 
hosanna in the highest." Matt. xxi. 9. 

And now that triumphal march is moving on, and they stand 
on the summit of Mount Olivet — and what a prospect ! It is 
the tallest of the mountains around, and commanded a view 
far and wide, of green valleys, vine-clad hills, seas, and rivers. 
Far in the west was the broad Mediterranean, to his right the 
valley of the Jordan, to the south was the Dead Sea, to his left 
Bethlehem, and before him Jerusalem, with her lofty towers, 
her splendid temple, rich with the offerings of ages, and august 
with its awful ceremonies, and ber crowded population ready 
to welcome him as their long-expected king. A thousand 
hearts around were beating with exultation, the air was vocal 
with his praise, the distant mountain-tops echoed back their 
joy, the very rocks, we are told, were ready to break into sing- 
ing, and all the trees of the forest to clap their hands for joy. 

Was not that a proud day for him, the despised and derided 
one? The man of Nazareth w as now hailed Messiah of the 
Jews, the son of the carpenter, the hope of Israel and salvation 
of the world. Surely, if innocence ever may triumph, it is when 



CHRIST WEEPING- OYER JERUSALEM. 



475 



the clouds obscuring it are dispersed, and its righteousness is 
brought forth as the sun, and its enemies forced to yield the 
tribute of their applause. And he, the man of sorrows, did he 
not then rejoice? Was there no glow upon his cheek, no 
brightness in his eye ? His bosom heaved indeed with an un- 
wonted fullness, but 'twas the fullness of his anguish, and 
amidst all the joy and exultation of that applauding crowd the 
Saviour " wept." He looked down upon the city lying quietly 
and securely below, upon the crowd now worshipping, and 
soon to crucify him, and as he thought of all their privileges 
and abuses, of their past security, and coming doom, his heart 
was overwhelmed with the view of their certain and self-caused 
ruin, and he wept. The Saviour of sinners, the Prince of Israel, 
the Lord of Glory, wept. It was a city of unnumbered privi- 
leges, and he wept; of unnumbered crimes, and he wept; and 
weeping he exclaims, " Oh, that thou, even thou, hadst known, 
at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy 
peace." 

Now the rules of God's government are unchangeable, and 
Jerusalem's fate is the type of others. Consider, 1st, Every 
man has a day of merciful visitation. 2d, When disregarded, 
the things that make for his peace shall be hid from his eyes. 

I. Life is such a day. It is a solemn thing to live in God's 
world, to breathe his free air, tread upon his earth, be upheld 
by his goodness, fed on his bounty, in him to live, and move, 
and have our being, to have constantly around us that awful 
presence, and fastened upon us the keen gaze of that omniscient 
eye. When God breathed into man the breath of life, he made 
him a living soul endowed with high and immortal powers, 
placed before him a noble and exalted destiny, and brought on 
him solemn and fearful responsibilities. Now life is the time 
given to prepare for meeting these responsibilities, fulfilling 
this destiny, training these immortal powers for that higher 
and more glorious world, their ultimate abode. It is the in- 
fancy of man, the period of education for eternity. Oh, it is 
this which gives to life its solemn and momentous import — that 
every circumstance, however minute, has its influence on eter- 



476 



CHRIST WEEPING OYER JERUSALEM. 



nal destiny. Every act, word, thought, feeling, that flits over 
the mind or moves the heart, gives an impression which no 
time, no circumstances, can eradicate, but endures through 
eternal ages. The moment just past has gone to the bar of 
God, and its testimony is there recorded, but it has left behind 
its own deep impression stamped on the soul. You will never 
be, through all eternity, the exalted spirit you might have been 
had yesterdny been wholly given to God. The past may be 
forgiven, but never annihilated : the wound of sin may be healed, 
but the scar remains, a memorial of our folly and the kindness 
of our good physician. A chain binds our whole being to- 
gether, and its smallest link, when touched, vibrates throughout 
its whole extent. Is not life a solemn time, a precious time, a 
time of invitation, of reprieve, of visitation ; every day a day 
of mercy, in the blessings of his providence, and the invitations 
of his grace. 

Your life has long since been forfeited by sin ; every moment 
it is preserved is a merciful visitation. Think of the many 
mercies that constitute the happy existence of a moment — how 
numerous, delicate, fragile, are the cords which keep in play 
the machinery of our lives. One cord snapped, existence is 
gone ; one deranged, its enjoyments are fled ; all diseased, its 
misery is intolerable. Do you remember one young as your- 
self, your companion and friend ; his prospects were fair as 
yours for life and continued health and happiness, and he is 
gone, cut off in the midst of sin, unwarned, unprepared ; and 
are you spared ? What a merciful visitation ! And now all 
around is calculated to call you to God : the works of his hands, 
the ordinances of his house, the solemn services of the Sabbath, 
and many turning to God. All these constitute your visita- 
tion. Give heed, then, to the things of your peace. 

Consider again, that prosperity and adversity are days of 
visitation. Parts of life are signalized from others, and some 
individuals are favored with signal blessings. Some enjoy 
every blessing. Their cups overflow. They have no sickness, 
no affliction in themselves or their families. All their schemes 
succeed ; every day adds to their wealth and respectability. 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



477 



Their talents are great, their influence extensive ; their joy over- 
flows in feasting and merriment. 

What is the design of God ? "Why that influence ? To be 
;| perverted ? Why those talents, that wealth ? And what is 
, their effect on you? Are you humbly filled with gratitude 
! and love ; or do you say in pride, " Behold this great Baby- 
, Ion which I have built ? " God would win you by kindness, 
; would draw you by cords of love as by the hands of man, 
would give you greater riches and pleasures. I knew one thus 
I converted amidst surrounding infidelity, a young successful 
lawyer. Providence smiled, industry and talents soon brought 
wealth and influence, and his heart was melted. Connected 
by blood and marriage with some of the most distinguished 
scholars of Europe, and surrounded by infidel society, the 
goodness of the Lord led him to repentance. He took up 
such a cross as none of us have to bear, and sang the songs of 
Zion in a strange land indeed. 

Now God is thus visiting you. You tremble not at his wrath, 
he would conquer you by love. Your indignation is excited 
when the thunders of Sinai are pealed in your ear. He ad- 
dresses you in the language of love, every day ministering to 
your wants, every night watching around your couch, every 
moment pouring on you some fresh blessing. But will you 
forget your obligations and responsibilities ? Then fearful will 
be the account, as that of the steward who began to eat and 
to be drunk while his lord was away. God will leave you to 
harden your heart, or will bring affliction on you. And I ap- 
peal to you who have been afflicted. Has not this been God's 
last resort, his strange work ? He afflicts not willingly. 
Affliction is a merciful visitation ; so the apostle Paul, so the 
Psalmist, so many have found it. This life must be viewed as 
connected with another. This gives prosperity and adversity 
their true meaning. You must see more than your pain, must 
see the hand that causes it, and the heart that guides the hand. 
Thus all the events of life form part of one great system of 
love, and all the threads that guide us run up into an unseen 
hand. Some cannot be won by kindness ; the rod must be 



478 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



used. Success intoxicates, they must be defeated ; fullness is 
not good for them, they must be brought to "want. In the 
majority of cases sense and sensual things are present and j 
urgent, and shut out eternal realities. We need solitude, 1 
retirement, leisure, to reflect, to be called back into ourselves, 
to commune with our own hearts and be still. What has been 
your experience in prosperity? What is that of the world? 
Without affliction men would lose one half their better earthly ! 
feelings. Are you afflicted, have you been afflicted ? Then 
see a father's hand, kiss the rod. It is a visitation from heaven, ! 
and calls you from earth to the skies. Sanctified afflictions 
are the greatest blessings : unsanctified, bitter curses. 

General revival of religion is also a day of visitation. There 
are periods in the world's history, when religion seems almost 
extinct, universal apathy and formality prevail in the church, * 
worldliness and hypocrisy and heresy among ministers. Then 
vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, blasphemers are 
bold, licentiousness, sensuality, profligacy, are universal ; the 
general atmosphere is tainted ; in every book, in every society, 
you see irreligion diffused by the smile, or the jest, or the argu- 
ment, or misrepresentation. Such was the last century, when 
genius, learning, wit, power, combined to extirpate the Gospel 
from the earth. Again, there are days when the general mind 
is alive and wide awake to religious and. eternal truths. Many 
run to and fro, and knowledge is increased. Ministers are 
clothed with salvation, and shod with the preparation of the 
Gospel. It is an age of religion and religious enterprise. It 
pervades everything. Wherever you go, you meet Christians : 
at home, abroad ; in high places, in low; public conveyances, 
everywhere. The Bible is widely diffused. In the parlors of 
the rich, and the cottages of the poor, religion is respected, and 
learning and genius consecrate their powers to defend its 
truths, and enforce its practical importance. 

Such were the days of the Reformation, and such is our day. 
It is a day of visitation to the world, and blessed is he who 
sees it. Again : " Religion," says Luther, " is like a summer 
shower which falls, now here, now there." Countries where 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



479 



the Gospel is preached faithfully and plainly are blessed to the 
J salvation of many. To live in such a land is to enjoy a visit- 
ation. Such is our land, and blessed are ye of the Lord. 

Again, there are especial seasons of awakening and conver- 
sion in these favored lands — precious and glorious times when 
all conspires for the sinner's good. Man and God urge him, 
heaven and earth combine their influence, and the very air is 
tilled with a palpable solemnity. Xone escape. The spirit 
operates powerfully, preaching is earnest ; ministers are bap- 
tized, as it were, afresh, with spirit and power. Whole hosts 
enter in. How many long to see such a day, how many won- 
der. AYhat a day of visitation ! 

But special movements on our own hearts create a day of 
merciful visitation. They are the beamings of that light which 
has come into the world. In such an age, such a land, it is 
impossible but that such influences must be felt. In the full 
career of sin, in the bustle of the world, in the noise an. I 
mirth of society, one feels them. So Herod cried out, " It is 
John, — John, whom I despised, imprisoned, beheaded, is risen 
from the dead, and mighty works do shew forth themselves in 
him." In retirement, in darkness, sickness, meditation, we 
have caught glimpses of purer and better things, when all was 
quiet around ; in the still moonlight, in the calm sunset, when 
the mind, treed from its earthly cares, had time and taste for 
higher things. Often the stillness of the Sabbath, the voice 
and venerable form of some reverend father in Israel, the 
memory of childish days, and all the tender impressions then 
felt, especially of her, now no more, who watched your cradle, 
and taught you to lisp Christ's name, have called up tears of 
sympathy and penitential sorrow. Thus the mind has looked 
away from earth, and jisen to clear and etherial views of truth ; 
then soft and gentle, as the music of heaven, was the voice and 
of God calling you to the skies. 

II. Consider the second truth. Xow are they hidden from 
your eyes. If not improved, all these privileges are taken away. 
This is the universal testimony of Scripture : " to him that hath 
shall be given, but from him that hath not, shall be taken 



4S0 



CHRIST "WEEPING OYER JERUSALEM. 



away even that which he hath." The unprofitable servant 
lost his one talent. So teach reason and experience. We 
have read of a man who on some medical theory shut out the 
light. You can anticipate the effect. Some fanatics tie the 
limbs uselessly in some position, form is destroyed, the blood 
does not circulate, aud life is gone. Man is an active being, 
and must be actively engaged. There are seasons in religion, 
harvests for souls, decisive crises on which hang tremblingly 
everlasting realities. The husbandman, in the bright days of 
sunshine, must plough and sow, and not wait for the storm. For 
some of you there is to-day such a crisis. Then improve the 
day of your visitation. And, now, to you who will not improve 
the day, of your visitation, what can we say? The Saviour weeps 
for you; kindly, affectionately, would he call you to himself, 
but you turn away. He knows your certain misery, and wept ; 
and will you not weep for yourselves ? Ah ! in your hours of 
merriment you have great cause for weeping, and could one 
glimpse of the future burst on you, you too would weep. 

The lovers of this world seem bound to it by some strange 
spell. The form of some secret fascination seems to have 
charmed their faculties until the voice of reason and experience 
as well as the voice of God falls unheeded on their ears. In 
spite of all that we have known ourselves, and heard from others, 
we still believe that the world is a satisfying portion ; we listen 
to its promises, and with eager expectation grasp its unsubstan- 
tial pleasures. There is none who has not been sometimes 
rudely awakened from his dream of worldly happiness to gaze 
upon the stern reality of truth. But he soon composes him- 
self softly to his repose, enjoys the same visions, pursues the 
same shadows, clasps the same phantom form to his bosom ? 
starts from his slumbers, finds it all a dream, and sleeps 
again. And this is the business of life, the employment of 
threescore years and ten, bestowed on rational and immortal 
beings, for the purpose of securing everlasting happiness. 

But is it all a dream ? Is it true of the great and the 
learned and the wise, the shrewd, sagacious, calculating men 
of the world, that the objects they are pursuing are as unreal 



CHRIST TVEEPIXG OYER JERUSALEM. 



and unsubstantial as the veriest figments of a dream, that 
amidst all that restless activity which agitates unceasingly the 
millions of our globe, there is nothing at all more rational 
than the feverish excitement of a disordered brain ? Yes, my 
friends, it is a dream, "all the wild trash of sleep, without the 
rest." Such is the decision of God's word, and such, we will 
endeavor to show, is the unbiased decision of reason. What 
think you of ambition, then, that noblest of worldly passions, 
"that last infirmity of noble minds?" Of all the restless 
beings that crowd our globe, and harass it with their mad 
designs, there is none more evidently irrational than the ambi- 
tious man. His whole life is one long pursuit and restless 
dream. He is perpetually haunted by visions of ideal glory 
which destroy his peace of mind, impair his health, and beckon 
him onward to some dangerous precipice, whence he falls to 
rise no more. Amidst the glorious delusions which swarm 
thickly in his sight, he dreams of universal empire, of undying 
fame, he grasps the sceptre of the world, and already he irs 
the pseans of its millions, and, in the madness of the horrid 
dream, he thinks that men are but sheep to be slaughtered at 
his will, and marches forth with his armies, spreading devasta- 
tion and carnage in his path. But at last he meets his doom. 
Heaven has decreed that even in this life injustice and crime 
shall often experience a dreadful retribution. The indignation 
of mankind is aroused against the common enemy, and ambi- 
tion awakes at last upon the rock of St. Helena. 

But suppose the delusion had lasted a little longer, it would 
still have been a dream. Suppose he had attained all that he 
desired and hoped for, that Europe had bowed beneath his 
yoke, and Asia and Africa and America extended his wide 
dominions, till the sun never set upon his territories, as it never 
did on his boundless and insatiable ambition. Even then, lie 
must have soon awaked to a sense of the delusion. The happi- 
ness which seemed just within his reach would then have 
vanished, and as he grasped the object of his long desire, he 
would only feel the crushing energy of his own convulsive em- 
brace. The mind, finding no employment without, would have 

21 



482 



CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 



turned in upon itself, and avenged the "wrongs of a world, by 
the very energies which had been employed to subdue it. Of 
those who are engaged in the pursuit of wealth, of pleasure, 
how much more rational are the schemes? How vast and 
visionary are the expectations of success in the pursuit. Low 
mad the anticipations of enjoyment in the possession. Of the 
millions upon earth, how many are expecting to be either rich 
or great, and of all that number how few succeed. 

In view of all these things, the uncertainty of life, the cer- 
tainty of death and judgment, the transitory character of all 
earthly pursuits, the unsatisfying nature of all earthly good — 
how ought you to pause and consider your ways, before the 
day of your merciful visitation shall be closed forever. What 
shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his 
own soul ; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul ? 
The attempt to gain the world would be futile ; and if you 
could gain it all, it would be unavailing to satisfy the wants of 
an immortal spirit. "What can we say, what shall we do to 
induce you to improve the present moment as it flies, and lay 
hold on eternal interests ? We can only set the case before 
you and then weep, as Christ did over Jerusalem, and commend 
you to God. 



XXIX. 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



2 Cor. v. 20. — "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God 
did beseech you by us: we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to 
God/' 



The Gospel is a message from the throne of heaven, and 
every minister of the Gospel, called and sent of God, is an 
ambassador for Christ. The message which he bears is one of 
awful dignity, of supreme authority. It is God's proclamation 
of pardon, God's offer of reconciliation, to this rebellious and 
ruined world. The position he occupies is one of high and 
solemn responsibility. Pie stands, himself a dying man, be- 
tween the living God and dying men ; he stands a sinful man, 
between a holy God and a world of sinners; he stands a 
pardoned rebel, between an angry God. and his offending 
subject. 

There was once a far different messenger from heaven. He 
was the brightness of his Father's glory, and express image of 
his person ; and although he left the glory which was his 
before the world was made, yet did the radiance of his essen- 
tial divinity often beam forth through that inferior nature, in 
which it was enshrouded. Mild persuasion and high author- 
ity sat enthroned upon his lips, and when he spake, even his 
enemies unwillingly acknowledged, that he spake as never man 
before had spoken. But his work was soon finished, his mis- 
sion soon terminated, and, after a life of sorrow and a death of 
agony, he soon abandoned a world that was not worthy of him, 
and sitteth now exalted forever at the right hand of the 
Majesty on high. 



484 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



And now, the great work for which he became incarnate 
and lived and died, the message which fell from his own lovely 
lips, and was sealed by his own most precious blood, the great j 
embassy from heaven to earth — great in itself but stamped with , Vi 
a new and imperishable dignity, by the character of him who 5! 
bore it first — has been entrusted to earthen vessels — to men of a 
like passion with ourselves. ]S T ow, also, the minister of the ^ 
Gospel, as the humble representative of his Saviour, in Christ's 5 
stead and by his high authority, offers a treaty of peace, pre- r 
sents the terms of reconciliation. How awful are the subjects 
he is called to discuss, how vast the interests involved, how , 
tremendous the consequences which may result from the neglect 
or the right performance of his duties. The Gospel which he 
preaches is the Gospel of God, and however feeble may be the 
instrument by whom it is proclaimed, it must prove the savor 
of life unto life or of death unto death to every soul of man 
that hears it. O brethren, what a fearful thought is this, 
that of all those mighty crowds that gather Sabbath after Sab- 
bath in all the churches of our land, and sit beneath the warn- 
ings and invitations of the Gospel, of the hundreds that hear 
me now, there is not one that does not possess an immortal 
spirit, hurrying onward to the bar of God, moulding its desti- 
nies for eternity, on whom each sermon that he hears is leav- 
ing some deep impression, sealing it 'for eternal life, or stamping 
on it the dark impress of eternal death. Oh, who of us is 
sufficient for these things? 

How tremblingly should mortal man lay his hand upon the | 
ark of God, lest he perish by the touch ! Oh, who could have 
dared to hope, had it been one of our early dreams, had it only 
mingled with the wildest, boldest, of our childish visions, that 
we should be ministers of God, that on us should all these high 
and boundless responsibilities hereafter rest, that to us should 
be granted, all sinful and unworthy as we are, the great priv- 
ilege of standing up before a dying world and proclaiming the 
unsearchable riches of Christ, the great salvation of our God. 
How fervent and earnest would have been our prayers for di- 
vine assistance ! would we not have spent our days in anxious 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



485 



thought, our nights in sleepless preparation? We would have 
improved each hour as it passed, we would have seized each 
opportunity before it was gone forever, we would have culti- 
vated to the utmost the limited capacities of our nature ; and, 
summoning all our powers for this high service, concentrating 
all our energies in one burning focus on this great object, 
w r ould have thought it happiness enough to pour forth our full 
souls in one earnest, affectionate remonstrance with dying sin- 
ners, and then depart and be with God. 

But, alas, the time lost can never be reclaimed, energies 
once wasted on the world can never be consecrated in their 
fulness and freshness to God, and it is only in great weakness 
that we can present before you the message of our King. Yet 
we address you in Christ's stead, by his authority ; in his great 
name, we make the very offer which he, if present, would make 
you to-day. Our commission is before us, stamped with the 
Father's approbation, sealed by the blood of the Son. And, " he 
that hath ears to hear, let him hear," for we come before y< u 
on no light trivial errand, come not to comply with an empty 
form, not to gratify an idle curiosity, nor to furnish the amuse- 
ment of an hour, but to discuss subjects of large and enduring 
interest, large as the soul's immortal powers, enduring as its 
never-ending existence. We come to urge you, most affec- 
tionately and most solemnly, to be reconciled to God. The 
sum and substance of our business is to show that there is a 
fearful controversy between God and man, and, if possible, to 
produce a reconciliation. 

And here the difficulty meets us, on the very threshold of 
our subject, that you utterly deny the existence of any contro- 
versy, and, of course, the necessity of any reconciliation between 
God and man. You look around you, and everywhere behold 
the traces of infinite benevolence. All nature is calm and 
peaceful, the blue sky is spread out in still and solemn beauty 
above you, the bright sun pours its mild and cheerful radiance 
around you, the soft air of evening breathes gently on your 
brow, the warm life-blood bounds merrily from your heart, 
and flows in healthful currents along the arteries, where every 



486 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



throb is joy. You mingle in the gay society about you, and as 
the jest and the laugh pass around, as the dance moves merrily 
on, and the music sweeps by in full and voluptuous swell, 
you yield yourself up to the bright illusion of the scene, and 
say within your heart, surely there can be no danger near, no 
clouds and darkness to gather around that sun, no tempests to 
sweep across that sky, no thunderbolts that lie slumbering 
there, no angry God, that sitteth frowning in the heavens. 
Gladly would we leave you to the enjoyment of this pleasant 
dream, but as ambassadors for Christ, we dare not : nay, if there 
be, indeed, a fearful controversy between God and man, unset- 
tled, still pending, in which all the attributes of God's nature, 
and all the powers of his government are arrayed in terrible 
hostility against the sinner, surely it becomes every reason- 
able creature to ascertain the fact, and prepare to meet or 
avoid the danger. That such a controversy exists is most 
clearly manifested from the language and the acts of each of 
the parties. 

The, very idea of " reconciliation " in our text, supposes a 
controversy ; for if there be none, where is the need of recon- 
ciliation? Again, we are expressly told, in the Epistle to the 
Komans, that " the carnal mind is enmity against God," nay, 
so deep and inveterate is this enmity that "it is not subject to 
the hew of God, neither indeed can be." And the Psalmist 
assures us, that when God looked from heaven to behold the 
children of men, there was none good, no not one, none that 
did know or regard God." The language of their heart and 
their conduct is that of utter evil, of bitter derision or open 
defiance. " Who is the Lord, that we should regard him, or 
the most High, that we should serve him?" "How doth the 
Lord know ? " " Let us burst his bonds asunder, and cast 
his cords from us." The same idea runs through the whole 
New Testament, where sinners are represented " as enemies 
ag-dnst God, by 'reason of evil works," "as enemies to the 
Cross of Christ," "as rebels against God's government, and 
subjects of the Prince of the Power of the air, t lie spirit that 
reigueth in the children of disobedience." On the other hand, 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



487 



God is represented as "angry with the wicked every day," as 
"laughing their devices to scorn," "as pouring down from his 
high throne in the heavens the bitterest derision upon their 
puny efforts, as arraying himself for the complete making ready 
his bow, preparing his arrows in his quiver, as a man of war 
girded up, and panting for the fight, as a lion roaring in his 
majesty and strength. Nay, if there be one term in language 
which can express more forcibly than any other, indignation, 
deep and deadly, if there be in all nature one image more full 
of terror than all besides, this term, this imagery, is selected. 
Epithet is piled on epithet, image heaped on image, to impress 
our minds with this determined anger and its awful effects. 
It is "indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish," it 
is " vengeance and fiery indignation," it is " darkness and 
outer darkness," and " the blackness of darkness forever." 
Indeed, throughout the whole Bible we are told of a kingdom 
of light and of darkness, of a daring rebellion against God's 
government and throne, led on by a haughty and fallen 
Spirit, and aided by men who have joined the standard of his 
rebellion. 

It is to overthrow this rebellion that Christ came into the 
world to produce a reconciliation of this controversy, on terms 
honorable to God and safe to man. The whole scheme of the 
Gospel, the whole Jewish and Christian system with all their 
sacrifices for sin, from the first lamb that bled on Abel's altar 
to the last great offering on Calvary — all are based on the 
assumption of such a controversy. If there be none, then the 
Gospel is a delusion, then all the array of types and prophecies, 
and miracles by which the Saviour's appearance was announced 
at first, and afterward attended, was a mockery. Then the 
death of Christ and the offers of salvation are a farce, then 
we are madmen and you are dupes. 

But the existence of this controversy is not only revealed in 
the word of God, it is equally manifest from the acts of his 
providence and the works of his hands. It is written upon 
the face of human society, and engraven as with a pen of brass 
upon the front of nature, so that wherever man exists, or na- 



488 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



ture has been observed, the conviction has .sunk deep into 
every human bosom, that the Creator of nature and of man 
had a fearful controversy with the workmanship of his hands. 
If not, why is the history of the world a history of woe? 
Why is man born in agony, why does he die amidst tears and 
groans ? Why does the pestilence devastate earth's fairest 
regions ? Why does famine sweep her pale nations to the 
grave ? Why does disease in ten thousand forms still watch 
about our path ? Why does death, standing at the door of 
life, stamp his pale signet on the infant's brow, and claim it as 
his victim ? Ah, — why is the face of nature scarred as with 
the thunderbolts of wrath ? Why does the volcano pour its 
liquid lava on the earth and bury in its fiery torrents the habi- 
tations of men ? Why does the earthquake burst her solid 
rocks, and heave her quaking mountains, and, yawning wide, 
engulf its populous cities ? Why do we still discover in 
earth's remotest regions the traces yet remaining of that 
terrible convulsion, when the fountains of the great deep 
were broken up, and over earth's loveliest valleys, hills, and 
highest mountains — over all human habitations — over all 
man's hopes, fears, joys, and sorrows, the wild waters of the 
ocean rolled along — dark, boundless, irresistible — a fit em- 
blem of the Creator's majesty — a fit element of the Creator's 
wrath ? 

Why? But the answer is already given, we hear it in the 
moans of the dying infant, in the shrieks of the agonized 
mother, in the groans of the strong man, when in the vigor 
of his days he is called to struggle with his last foe. It comes 
from the chamber of the dying, from the grave of the dead, 
from the sepulchres of earth's buried millions. Down through 
the long lapse of centuries, it comes in tones that cannot be 
mistaken, loud, distinct, solemn. There is a fearful contro- 
versy between God and man. Such is the testimony of God 
in his Word, and in his works, and now, does the testimony of 
man fully correspond ? Most fully, " out of thine own mouth 
will I condemn thee." 

There is not an individual in this house who will not acknowi- 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



489 



edge that he is a sinner. Xow holiness is directly, irreconcil- 
ably opposed to sin, and if God be a God of holiness, he must 
have a controversy with sin. Xow sin is not an idle abstrac- 
tion, a word without any corresponding thing. The world in 
which we live is a world of solemn and substantial realities, and 
sin is the palpable act of an accountable agent, nay, in strict 
propriety of speech, is really the sinner acting. Hope not, then, 
to escape behind the flimsy pretext that God abhors the sin, 
but will spare the sinner. When the executioner comes to 
punish murder, let the murderer beware. When God shall 
arise to take vengeance on sin, let the sinner tremble. Ah, at 
the judgment-bar your subtle distinctions will be of no avail. 
When heaven and earth shall flee before his face, where will 
your cobweb sophistry be found ? And this is not the acknowl- 
edgment of a few educated under the influence of Christian 
.instruction, it is the universal testimony of the human race, 
it is the voice of human nature, sounding as best it may through 
every channel that can give utterance to human thought or 
feeling — in history and in fiction, in poetry and philosophy, in 
all the institutions of society. It is interwoven with the struc- 
ture of all known languages as if it were a necessary element 
of human thought. The fall of man and his final restitution, 
the sins of the people and the wrath of the gods, form the 
staple of the ancient tragedy and epic. All the philosophers 
admit the corruption of human nature, and even the gay and 
licentious Horace admits that our " sins do not permit the 
thunderbolts of the gods to sleep." 

So deep was this conviction that every misfortune of life, 
and every uncommon appearance in nature, was attributed to 
some incensed and avenging deity. If a comet swept across 
the sky, or a meteor blazed through the air, or a shadow dark- 
ened the sun, whole nations trembled; and when in the dark 
hour of night the wintry wind howled around his dwelling, or 
the loud storm burst over his head, the affrighted heathen 
crept pale and shivering to his altar, for the infernal furies were 
out upon the wind, and some god had spoken in his anger from 
the clouds. And then, some victim must appease that wrath, 



490 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 



some lamb, some trembling captive, some innocent babe, must 
bleed upon that altar, perhaps whole hecatombs must die, that 
the indignation of heaven may be averted. But this you say 
is superstition. Granted; yet every universal effect must 
have a cause as universal as itself. No widespread opinion 
prevalent through all ages and all nations, can be pure and un- 
mixed falsehood, and beneath the monstrous and ever-chang- 
ing forms of this wild superstition, is clearly visible one great, 
substantial, unchanging truth, distorted, if you please, de- 
graded, yet still a truth, stamped in enduring characters upon 
the human mind and never to be erased, " that there is a con- 
troversy between God and man." 

And does not conscience add confirmation to this truth ? 
Why does the sick man at the approach of death look wildly 
in agony around, beg for a day, an hour, a single moment? 
Why does the prisoner, immured in his horrid dungeon, 
shudder at the thought of execution, and when the hour is 
struck, feel that this is the consummation of woe? Meet a 
strong man in the streets of a pestilential city, and tell him 
that the plague-spot is on his head and he must die, certainly, 
instantly die : why does the cheek bleach, and the lips quiver, 
and the pulse flutter, and the knees fail, and the eyes swim in 
dizziness, and the reason reel upon its throne ? Is it not all 
because God has a controversy with man, and man knows that 
he is a sinner, and fears to stand before his God in judgment? 
Is it not all proof of a deep, abiding conviction of the soul as 
universal as our race, that there is a day of retribution in 
which God will judge the world in righteousness, and settle 
this long standing controversy with man ? 

Then how great is the need of reconciliation, and how ur- 
gent is the call of God who is now in Christ Jesus reconciling 
the world unto himself through the death of the cross ! 
Behold, now is the accepted time, and now is the day of sal- 
vation. God has provided an atonement. God has found a 
ransom. God has offered terms of reconciliation, and by the 
preaching of the Gospel the invitation is extended to all men. 
" Ho ! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters." 



AMBASSADORS FOR CHRIST. 491 

" Whosoever will, let him take of the water of lite freely." 
"For God hath made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, 
that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." 
"Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did 
beseech you by us ; we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye re- 
conciled to God." 



THE END. 



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